


We're a Power Couple and Everyone Knows It (But Us)

by AllotropicBi, tigrlilly



Series: The Lord of the Onion Ring [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bucky + blind dates, Bucky is a memer, Bucky likes to make endless jokes about his arm, Department store au, F/M, Flower Crowns, Hot teacher AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, Platonic blowjob, Rimming, Romantic proposal, Slow Burn, Stripper AU, goldfish, post-serum Steve, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 133,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllotropicBi/pseuds/AllotropicBi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigrlilly/pseuds/tigrlilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes meets Steve Rogers in the middle of winter in Central Park.</p><p>(Or the fic where Bucky works at Nordstrom and is a high class memer with a string of hopeless blind dates, whilst Steve is a precious pet goldfish lover who lives his life as a hot teacher alongside working a night job.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pretzelstick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzelstick/gifts).



> First I want to mention everyone who has helped me so far in this journey. Thanks to my co-author [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com) who helped me piece together a slew of ideas and tell me everything I need to know about Nordstrom, and is still dealing with my antics over this fic.  
> To my friends who get first reads because I need to know if it's decent or not: [Paige](http://fallouchboy.tumblr.com) (who vigorously reassures me my Steve/Bucky banter is to moo for), [Abbey](http://bxdblood.tumblr.com) (who has always been a part of my writing), [Aida](http://aliengirljpeg.tumblr.com) (who barely says anything because apparently she doesn't need to), and to the few others I've let in on the fic before posting it. Huge thanks to [Lauren](http://loveloveb.tumblr.com) for giving me accurate information on New York since she practically lives there.  
> This work is pretty much written for my own pleasure, as well as for my very own [Stevie](http://satinflowers.tumblr.com) who got me into this stucky mess and drags me deeper every day.
> 
> This is still a WIP but I am hoping it will progress into something consistent and strong. I am kind of nervous putting this out here simply because of the large readership and amount of pre-existing works in this ship/fandom that are phenomenal. For that reason, kudos and comments are more appreciated than I think they've ever been for me. 
> 
> Naturally since this is fiction, none of this is true and details may stray from reality. Please notify me of any inconsistencies.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu).

It's early January and the bitter cold is nipping at the toes of every New Yorker that is stupid enough to go outside. By now the snow has become tiresome and old and, since it’s New York, pretty much every bit of fresh snow has been claimed under the boots of people unfortunate enough to be without transport. The wonder of the Christmas season has long passed, and the browning snow does nothing to make it desirable to endure winter for much longer. With holidays over and people bustling back to work and school, it only takes a few hours for every fresh snowfall to lose its magic.

But still there are still small everyday miracles, those things less grand than holiday lights and giant trees decorated in nauseous amounts of tinsel and baubles. Whether it be in the children who duck out of their way to school to give a homeless person some food, or the way people in love huddle close to keep warm, there are things about the dreary winter months that make it a little bit worth it to endure the frigid weather.

Now whether the first time Bucky Barnes meets Steve Rogers can be classified as magical… That’s questionable. Because when it happens, Bucky is without a jacket, down on one knee, and waiting for a response after having emphatically asked: “Will you marry me?”

There aren’t many witnesses on Gapstow Bridge for the proposal, but those that do see it are quick to leave the scene.

Bucky’s growing impatient, because beyond feeling the melting snow seeping through his jeans to his skin, he’s pretty sure his knee is going numb.

The first thing Steve Rogers says to Bucky is: “Is that an onion ring?”

Only a few moments earlier, Bucky received a text from Clint regarding an irresistible bet and the remains of his one-time junky breakfast. And well, Bucky picked out his victim while approaching the bridge.

When spotted, the chosen one was stopped on the bridge seeming to be mid run, what with his light outfit being darkened by sweat that the man somehow accumulated in the cold. He was looking out over the bridge and into the brook below, and Bucky thought him a good, decently attractive target. With that conclusion, Bucky didn’t look twice before jogging up to the man and dropping to one knee, letting his head drop down dramatically before popping the question. When Steve spoke, Bucky looked up.

Bucky immediately wants to take back his words and launch himself over the bridge and into the cold water. From meters away, Bucky easily underestimated his target. At this angle (which, if you ask Bucky, is rather distracting) Bucky can appreciate the fitting of the guy’s shirt, the curve of his abs, leading up to his broad shoulders and impeccable arms. Honestly, Bucky is kind of jealous.

His brain shuts off, which is probably why his mouth drops open to ask whether those are his actual pecs or if he’s got some kind of padding on. Thankfully his target speaks first.

“So are you going to put the ring on me or what?”

Bucky scrambles to his feet and swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He’s reconsidering the choice to stand up when he sees the devilishly handsome grin his prospective onion-ring-fiancé is wearing.

Bucky realizes he spends too much time on the Internet when all he can hear in his head is Squidward crying, “Oh no, he’s hot!” He has to clench his jaw to keep from bursting out laughing and ruining his –

“Is that a yes?” Bucky asks hopefully.

He notices a mischievous glint in the guy’s eye. Bucky doesn’t even know his name and he is so far gone.

He plucks the onion ring from Bucky’s gloved fingers and slips it over his pinkie, extending his hand as if to admire its fitting. He hums thoughtfully and tries it over the top of his ring finger. It barely fits past the second knuckle.

He looks at Bucky sceptically. “It’s a little small. And personally I prefer a more… ostentatious rock than the grit off the sidewalk, but you know what? I’ll take it.”

Yeah, Bucky kind of dropped it in his haste to catch this guy before he could run off.

“Steve, by the way,” his target says, though Bucky now feels like the positions have been reversed.

_Oh, how the tables have turned._

Bucky cringes at his inner monologue. Thank you, Joe Jonas.

“Bucky,” he replies awkwardly. He clears his throat and plasters on his most falsely charming smile to build up his confidence that initially toppled when he was caught off guard by Steve’s _everything_.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Steve says. “How much did this come to?” The way he’s effortlessly playing along has Bucky feeling some kinda way.

“Something south of three thousand,” Bucky answers, the flirtatious edge finally finding its way back into his character.

He’s fully aware of the slight innuendo and is absolutely charmed when Steve murmurs, “Just south of, huh?” Steve chances a meaningful glance down Bucky’s body, and to be honest Bucky’s thankful for it. He knows his body is better than the way his face is in the cold, nose going bright red to the point where he starts looking more cutesy and less sultry than he prefers.

He’s thinking about how this could have gone so much worse, and has all but forgot about the bet. He feels his composure creeping its way back into his veins and is about to shoot a line when Steve whips his head around at the sound of his name.

He turns back to Bucky and smiles apologetically. “I’m really, really sorry. I hate to ditch you at a moment like this but… Cold feet?” Steve shakes his head and laughs, ducking his head before looking up at Bucky through his sweeping eyelashes. Bucky’s supposedly casual front falters. “Really though,” he adds, “I appreciate it.”

He checks over his shoulder and looks back to Bucky, giving him the once over. Bucky grins at his obvious show of interest, not missing his chance to appreciate Steve’s strong jawline and cheekbones that are catching the morning light in the most breath-taking way.

Before Bucky can at least ask for his number, Steve gives him a quick salute and heads off of the bridge. Bucky’s sigh is compensated for when Steve turns around while jogging backwards, lifting the onion ring up in the air with a grin and then pointedly pocketing it, turning back to catch up to his friend.

Between Steve’s sincere blue eyes that were lit up with amusement and his sinfully pink lips, Bucky is growing increasingly disheartened at the slim chances of ever seeing Steve again.

***

When Steve catches up to Sam, Sam is leaning over with his hands resting on his knees. “So I go all the way around Central Park, and you just leave me behind and dash ahead so I can come and find you canoodling on the bridge over there?” he asks, gesturing to where Steve abandoned Bucky a few moments ago.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, Steve is mildly disappointed to see that Bucky left. Steve smiles sheepishly and shrugs. “I was taking a break waiting for you and he came up to me.”

“Oh did he now?” Sam asks, quirking his eyebrow.

His interest is clearly piqued, and Steve can’t be bothered to tease Sam about his slow jogging just to say, “You snooze you lose!” He’s not that much of an ass. Besides, maybe Sam knows someone in New York who knows Bucky and can get them back in touch. He kind of doubts it, but he’d love to see that smile again. “He proposed to me,” Steve explains nonchalantly.

Steve expects Sam to gape or show some surprise, but instead he just eyes him before shrugging.

“With an onion ring,” he adds. It’s no fun when Sam doesn’t react.

“An onion ring,” Sam repeats.

Steve nods proudly, pulling it out of his pocket and showing it off. Sam blinks a few times.

“New York is fucking weird. I’m glad I’m going back to DC man. Don’t know if I could handle it here.”

Steve laughs fondly, and after a few more moments the two of them get back to their morning run (or jog, as Sam fervently insists every damn time), finishing their trip by heading back to the hotel they’re staying at until Steve can find a place to stay that’s close enough to his work and decently affordable.

He’s really going to miss Sam.

***

Bucky drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it a few inches, and then drops it again. He repeats the cycle a few times before Clint grabs some of his hair and forces Bucky to keep his head up.

“Are you going to stop doing that? I’m trying to enjoy my milkshake.”

Bucky scowls and wrenches Clint’s hand from his head, squeezing with the metal digits of his left hand to make sure Clint winces enough to give up and let go. He drops his head on the table again.

“Seriously?” Clint exclaims. “How bad was it?”

“So bad,” Bucky mumbles into his arm. He finally lifts his head and looks up at his friend with utter despair. “He was so hot, Barton. _So_ hot.”

Clint takes a long sip of his shake and raises an eyebrow. Bucky tends to have an overdramatic flair from time to time, sure. This time Clint swears Bucky sounds like he’s in actual physical pain. “And what’s wrong with that? Fucked up your chance with Prince Charming when you asked for his hand?”

Bucky shakes his head, not even complaining when Clint finishes his own shake and starts on the second one he picked up for Bucky. “You know what the worst part is? I don’t think I did.” He recalls the way Steve breezily played along without hesitation, and even after he made a fool of himself time and time again Steve checked him out. Maybe he just has a good sense of humour, but Bucky’s betting that Steve isn’t totally straight. If he is, then that’s just tragic. Bucky will willingly chew his good arm off.

“If he’s half as hot as you’re insisting, I’m pretty sure you fucked it up. You’re not as smooth as you once were, Barnes.”

“Fuck off. You’re the worst,” Bucky mutters into his sleeve, only half joking. He snatches his milkshake back from his so-called friend just as Clint was taking a good chug, which inevitably means his straw snaps out of the cup, and the froth of the shake that’s collected on the end of the straw is launched right at his face. Clint scowls, grabbing a tissue from the diner’s tin on the table and grumpily wiping away the mess. Bucky unwraps his own straw and reclaims his shake, taking a sip before adding, “Just for your information, he said yes.”

Clint’s mouth drops open, the straw between his lips falling to the table. “No way.”

Bucky grins ruefully. “Oh hell yes. And you know what that means. He said yes, you hold up your end of the bet and tell Nat you think she’s hot.”

“No way,” Barton repeats, a look of terror slowly sneaking into his expression. “No, no. No I’m not ending up on my deathbed for a stupid bet, Barnes. Cough up the ring, show me the truth. He didn’t say yes, did he? You just want to wear that shit eating grin at my funeral.”

Even though he’s telling the truth, Bucky can’t help but to grin at the blatant accusation. “Oh no, you’re not worming your way out of this one. I already have a eulogy planned for you. ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the memory of Clint Asshole Barton, who lost his life by making the stupid mistake of underestimating his best friend’s charm and ability to make a complete stranger fall in love with him in a split second.’”

Clint’s scowl deepens as he spits bitterly, “You’re a mourning friend at my funeral, dickhead, not a pastor at a fucking wedding.”

Bucky shrugs and grins again. “In your case, it’s all the same.”

“I’m not gonna do it,” Clint reiterates. “Not until I have proof that this Adonis of yours actually said yes, and no, I won’t take your word for it.”

“You won’t trust your own best friend?” Bucky asks, feigning being offended by clutching his right hand over his heart. “Man, that wasn’t part of the fucking bet.”

“Yeah well forgive me if I don’t think this bet is worth losing my life over.”

“You’re the one that made it, Barton. Remember that when you’re on your way to hell.”

Clint drops his head onto the table, lifts it up a few inches, and drops it back down again. Bucky can’t stop grinning.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this, thank you so much. If you plan on sticking around for the following chapters to see where these two jerks go, please let me know by leaving kudos, bookmarking, subscribing, commenting, or even leaving me a message on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu/ask).  
> Updates should be once a week. Fridays seem like a good day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some really wonderful feedback on this fic and a lot of support and I cannot express how much that means to me. Thank you so much. I'm also having the hardest time not posting a slew of chapters way too early.  
> Again, thanks to co-author [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com) and to my other buddies who have all had a hand in proof reading and numerous ideas: [Paige](http://fallouchboy.tumblr.com), [Abbey](http://bxdblood.tumblr.com), [Aida](http://aliengirljpeg.tumblr.com), [Lauren](http://loveloveb.tumblr.com), and my dear [Stevie](http://satinflowers.tumblr.com).

Steve bounds down the stairs chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip.

The apartment is nice. If anything, it's  _too_ nice. So nice that it has a woman sitting at a front desk who was ready to help him view the place. The place is perfect and because of that, it is stupidly expensive. Why Steve has to be looking for a new apartment only weeks after having moved into a decently priced one is beyond him.

If it wasn’t for the stupid no pets policy that suddenly got enforced on the building by Steve’s crabby landlord, he wouldn’t be checking the building next to his own. At least this one allows pets.

When Sam was still with him before returning to DC, the two of them had already checked this building, easily marking it off as too pricey. Thankfully the one next door, where Steve is currently settled and not entirely unpacked, allowed pets. Until yesterday.

Steve threw a bit of a hissy fit in the confines of his own walls and opted out of throwing his phone across the room, instead calling Sam and whining to him. It was a dilemma alright, but Sam suggested that if he couldn’t find a new place, Steve could always keep his pets a secret.

He’s beginning to think it’s his only choice.

***

Bucky shoves the door open with his left shoulder and gives a quick wave to the person on duty downstairs. Normally he’d stop and have a quick chat with whomever it is to make their day a bit more tolerable, but Bucky is pretty sure they wouldn’t appreciate his sore mood right now.

Work sucked today. One bratty old white lady kept dragging him around for hours complaining about every little thing, then proceeded to tell him her life story and complain about her grandkids and how they didn’t appreciate the woman behind the money that was funding their tuitions. It took everything Bucky had in him not to drop her off at the eBar and dash off. He’d have been fired on the spot, which was the only reason he endured her jabbering.

Right now the only thing Bucky has on his mind is getting to his place to take a nice, hot bath. He’s almost positive the old lady smell rubbed off on him and he really doesn’t want that reek to spread its way across his apartment. First the bed sheets, then every pair of socks he owns. Bucky shudders at the thought.

He’s halfway to his floor when he reaches for the keys in his pocket, only they’re not there. Bucky frowns and checks the opposite pocket, and then pats down his back pockets. He can't have lost his keys; he just double-checked when he got off his bike that they were on him. Maybe he threw them in his backpack?

Bucky stops dead in his tracks when he hears an unmistakable thud on the stairs behind him. He swears under his breath and turns around, rushing back down a few steps to assess the casualty (and retrieve his keys).

Bucky is babbling before he’s even reached the poor soul. He really can’t afford a lawsuit over a set of keys that fell out of his pocket; he’s in school for God’s sake.

“Oh my gosh, I am so, so – Steve?”

Steve groans a bit, wincing as he presses at the base of his spine where he landed. He opens an eye at the sound of his name, taking a second from the disorientation to reply with a meek “Bucky?”

A small smile passes over Bucky’s lips, ridiculously giddy that Steve remembers his name. Then he realizes Steve’s lip is bleeding.

“Shit your lip is bleeding,” Bucky exclaims. Steve’s eyebrows draw together as he brings his fingers to his lip and yeah, that’s blood.

“Oh.”

Bucky can’t help the way his eyes flicker down when Steve sucks his lip in to clean off the drop that was about to run down.

“Here, I’ve got a… my apartment is just a couple floors away. Let me patch you up.”

“That what you say to all the girls?” Steve says teasingly, a sheepish grin on his lips. Bucky almost wants to lean forward, if only to clean up the blood that’s starting to seep out of Steve’s skin again. Steve beats him to it with a quick flick of his tongue that has Bucky forcing himself to supress a whimper. “How did I fall anyway?”

Bucky scans the floor quickly and holds up his keys guiltily, a spherical key ring swinging about.

“A magic eight ball?” Steve asks, his grin growing wider.

“I’m very indecisive, okay?” Bucky mumbles shyly. He rubs the back of his neck and rises to a stand, extending his right hand to Steve who hesitates before taking it. Bucky can’t help but notice how little pressure Steve applies to his hand, only having taken it out of politeness. “Seriously though, come on I can give you a hand with… this,” Bucky finishes, gesturing awkwardly at Steve’s face.

“Nah, it’s no big deal, honestly. I can manage; I’d hate to be a hassle.”

“No, no!” Bucky says too quickly. He cringes. Honestly could he sound any more desperate? Whatever. Life gave him a second chance to meet Steve and this time Bucky won’t part without getting his number.

“Ask the magic eight ball,” Steve suggests, voice dripping with amusement. Bucky narrows his eyes, but his smile betrays him.

He shakes it.

_No fucking way._

He shakes it again without looking up at Steve.

_WWYMS?_

Clint had quickly told him that one meant, “What would your mom say?” which didn’t sit well with the fact that Bucky didn’t have one anymore, but it was all in light humour so he lets it slide every time.

“Are you getting no’s and shaking it until it says yes?”

“No.”

 _YOLO_. _JUST DO IT._

Bucky smirks and holds it up for Steve to see.

“Ah, classy I see,” Steve says. He laughs, the sound sending a rush of warmth through Bucky. Dang.

“You gotta do what it says,” Bucky replies, hitching his backpack up his shoulders.

Steve shrugs. “Lead the way.”

***

Bucky lets Steve wash and dry off his lower lip while he waits patiently with a glob of cream on his finger.

“What’s that?”

“Antiseptic cream. Best one you can get; helps it heal super fast.”

Steve watches Bucky for a moment before shrugging. He hops up onto Bucky’s bathroom counter and sits there expectantly. Bucky stands dumbly for a moment before mumbling, “Oh you want me to…”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile. Yeah, he could easily take the cream and do it himself, but he has a few guilty pleasures of his own and if one of them includes Bucky having an excuse to touch him, well.

Bucky rises up to the task and furrows his brows in concentration, trying to focus more on the minor injury at hand rather than Steve’s breaths grazing against his skin. If he were to focus on that, the proximity would be heady, and he would probably end up doing something really stupid.

He applies the cream and avoids, totally avoids, thinking about how soft Steve’s lip feels.

Steve sniffs when Bucky draws back. “Is that old people I smell?”

Bucky groans and tips his head back. “Fucking customer at work she wouldn’t leave me alone for my entire shift. I knew her reek would get on me. I had plans to take a bath as soon as I got back to get rid of it but then,” Bucky trails off, waving his hand at Steve.

“Sorry to have interrupted your private bath time,” Steve says, smirk evident in the tone of his voice.

“Stop doing that!” Bucky whines. Steve is going to be the death of him.

Steve tilts his head, smiling at Bucky. “Doing what?”

“Talking like that!”

“Like what?”

Bucky glares and washes his hands, drying them off with the towel nearby.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Nah.”

“You landed on your ass, will it bruise?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Steve teases. Bucky huffs and fights off a slight blush. “Even if I did what would you do about it?”

Trying to keep his shit together, Bucky squats down and opens the cupboard beneath the sink, pulling out a bottle and showing it to Steve.

“What’s that?”

“Japanese mint oil.”

“Why do you have that?”

Bucky sighs. “My sister… When she was over last she got some for me and forced me to keep it. She’s always concerned I’m going to hurt myself, because apparently my job is dangerous.”

“Where do you work?”

Bucky hesitates, pointedly looking away from Steve as he mumbles, “The jewellery department at Nordstrom.”

Steve fails to hold back a short laugh. His gaze strays to Bucky’s left arm. It’s not like he didn't notice before. As soon as Bucky got into his apartment and took off his jacket and bike gloves, Steve saw it. He just refrained from asking.

“Is that how you got the arm?” Steve asks tentatively. He’s not sure if he can pull a line like that, and lets out a short relieved breath when Bucky smiles coyly.

“Something like that. Old lady brought in a feisty Rottweiler and I had to fend it off. She refused to leave him out and he didn’t particularly take to well to leaving her side.”

Steve opens his mouth in an understanding ‘oh’ and nods. “Yeah, I can see that happening.” Bucky shakes his head and laughs. He’s kind of disturbed by how Steve totally has the upper hand. Usually Bucky plays it cool and can flirt easily, but Steve is really pulling it off.

“Seriously though, the massive diamonds for rich people? Those things can get pretty pointy.”

“I don’t doubt it one bit.”

“Where did you fall then? And make sure you cover it up with a jacket after or something; this shit burns. Means business.”

Steve nods seriously and hops off the counter, pulling the back of his shirt up. Bucky swallows. Yeah, the skin’s pretty red and looks like it’ll turn into a nice, solid bruise. It also kind of extends below the waistband of Steve’s already low jeans. How does he deal with that?

“Okay,” Bucky breathes, opening the bottle and pouring a few drops onto his palm (his flesh and blood one, not the metal one). He nods to himself before tentatively pressing his fingers against Steve’s skin, rubbing the oil in small circles when Steve doesn’t protest.

“It kind of uh,” Bucky stammers, tapping his fingers near the waistline of Steve’s jeans. Steve makes a noise and willingly tugs it down by the belt loops. He’s slightly bent over and honestly Bucky is having a hard time keeping his head on straight right now.

He clears his throat and quickly rubs it over the right spot before taking his hand off of Steve and turning to the sink to wash his hand.

“Thanks,” Steve says, standing up straight and smoothing out his shirt.

Bucky grins as he looks up in the mirror, catching Steve’s eye. “No problem.”

“I should uh,” Steve mutters, “I should let you get to that bath. I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“You’re fine,” Bucky assures, vaguely disappointed that Steve is looking to leave. “Besides, my private time ought to wait for the wee hours of the night when everyone is asleep and can’t hear me.”

“Nice one,” Steve comments. “But seriously, I have to get ready for work and…”

“How come you’re here anyway?” Bucky asks, immediately realizing how invasive the question sounds. “Not that-”

“Oh it’s fine,” Steve cuts him off. “I just… I’m in the building next door actually. They put up a no pet policy and I’ve been scouting out a new place to move, but so far no luck. Might have to hide them away and keep them secret.”

“Rebel. What pets?”

“Goldfish,” Steve states proudly. Bucky’s jaw falls open. “Winona and Judd.”

“Window?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Who the fuck names a pet Window?”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. He tucks his hands into his pockets and smiles fondly at Bucky. “Not Window, you idiot. Winona.”

“Oh,” Bucky says dumbly. Yeah, that makes more sense.

“So.” Steve pushes off from the counter and makes his way out of the bathroom and towards the door, much to Bucky’s despair. “You should totally give me your number. You know, in case I get injured again. Assuming that oil works I might need some more of it real soon.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says, laughing airily. He takes Steve’s phone and types his number into it, putting his contact name as ‘James Barnes (AKA Bucky)’ with the muscle emoji attached to the end. He passes the phone back to Steve, appreciating the grin that spreads on Steve’s lips. He feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket and pulls it out to check the number.

 **Unknown number:** _Thanks for the rub down._

“This you?” Bucky says, turning the screen to Steve with a smirk.

“Yep,” Steve says, popping the ‘p’.

“Awesome.” Bucky is about to save the number when Steve snatches his phone from his hand and types in his own name before handing it back.

“Steve Rogers, AKA Cap,” Bucky reads out loud.

“Got the nickname from my work folks.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you work?”

Bucky could swear he sees a quick blush rise on Steve’s cheeks, though he can’t be sure. “Uh, I’m a gym teacher at the high school nearby.”

“Hot teacher, huh?”

“Something like that,” Steve replies, echoing Bucky’s words from earlier. Bucky grins at that, not really thinking enough to piece together why a gym teacher might be heading to work after school hours, that too on a weekend.

“Alright,” Steve says, ducking his head, “I should get going.”

“It was nice seeing you,” Bucky feels obligated to say, especially since he didn’t get to say so the first time they met.

“You too. Thanks for the… the cream and oil.” Bucky belatedly realizes it was hardly patching Steve up and that the injuries were so minor that yeah, Steve didn’t really have to come at all. The fact that he chose to is enough to make Bucky smile genuinely in return.

“You’re more than welcome,” Bucky replies.

They both stand awkwardly for a moment by the open door, unsure of what to do. Finally, Steve says a little goodbye again and leaves, glancing over his shoulder to give a little wave. Bucky does not swoon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the times I include memes and/or text posts I found on tumblr and I'll either cite them if they're used or put them in my fic tag on [my blog](http://peelace.co.vu/tagged/the%20meme%20fic).  
> Please lemme know what you think either on here or tumblr :-)  
> Chances are I'll keep up this trend of posting every 6 days instead of every week because I'm impatient.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna stop doing the whole "thanks to this mass of people" thing, but don't think it means they're anything less than detrimental to the journey of this fic.  
> Thank you guys so much for the positive feedback!!  
> Special thanks to [Stevie](http://satinflowers.tumblr.com) for enduring the typo that occurs in this fic, and to co-author [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com).

“Alright guys, fall in,” Steve calls across the gym. The students who aren’t already near him and his co-teacher Sharon shuffle closer. “You know the drill: five laps around the gym, and then we’ll do your choice of either basketball or volleyball. We’ll take a show of hands once you guys have done the laps, so get going.”

The kids grumble and grudgingly do as they’re told. “Wow,” Sharon mutters, coming up beside Steve. “You’re really getting the hang of this, aren’t you Mr. Rogers?”

“Well it’s not that hard to boss some kids around, Ms. Carter. Besides I’ve done this before.”

“Really? Never would have guessed. You don’t seem the healthy gym goer teacher type, what with the,” she cuts off, gesturing at his entire body. The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts up in a smile.

“Believe it or not I used to be a scrawny, bedridden midget once.”

Sharon eyes him calculatingly. “You know you’re new here so I don’t actually know you well enough to tell if you’re playing along and passing sarcasm back, or if you’re telling the truth.”

“Truth,” Steve says, turning to Sharon. She was one of the first people he met at the high school, what with her being his co-teacher and all. Steve immediately took a liking to her kind nature, friendly but not overly so. With previous jobs Steve has dealt with too eager, too touchy co-workers. Either that, or ones who completely snubbed him. Sharon is more of a friend than a co-worker, and having returned back to New York after so long, Steve really appreciates that. “Absolute truth.”

***

“Mr. Rogers!” someone calls. Steve turns to one student walking feebly towards him, accompanied by two of her friends. “Gina tripped and grazed her leg real bad on the court.”

Steve throws a glance at Sharon who’s expertly holding back a shit-eating grin from across the outdoor courts. The girls are not so discreetly staring at him and it makes Steve’s skin crawl. At least the injury is real.

“Alright, follow me to my office and I’ll give her a bandage,” Steve sighs. He turns and tries to tune out the shameless whispering and giggles behind him. He takes them inside and pushes open his office door, a smug smile on his face that the girls can’t see.

“Oh my God,” one of them whispers in horror. Yeah, that’s about right. Steve bites his tongue to keep from grinning and crouches down to get out his first aid kit. When he turns back around all three girls have vanished. Instead, Sharon is standing by his door with a smirk.

“The girls came back outside. Looks like Gina skipped out on that bandage.”

“I wonder why,” Steve says thoughtfully.

“I have to say the Minions are a nice touch to the office. Really adds to that whole Facebook mom vibe you have going on.”

Steve huffs a laugh and replaces the first aid kit under his desk. “Pretty sure that’s the only thing I have going for that vibe.”

He glances appreciatively across his office. There are Minion figurines scattered across every surface: his desk, filing cabinets, the window ledge, and even the little trophy shelf. The perfect repellent.

It started in the first week: Bruce, the science teacher, gave him a welcome gift for his office as per his own tradition. It was a little green army figure like the ones from Toy Story. Having taken quite a liking to it Steve began to accumulate an army in his office, picking up a new one every time he went out. The collection quickly earned him the nickname _Cap_ among the staff at Harvest.

Then he noticed the stares.

It wasn’t that they were ever subtle; he was just ridiculously oblivious. Sharon was the first to point it out to him after one class where Steve had insisted the rowdy hormonal class chill the fuck out and do some yoga (only of course he didn’t swear to the students in fear of being fired in the second week). Sharon had little to no experience and left the class to Steve which, well. Any upright positions, all eyes were on Steve. Any downward-facing dogs or something of that sort, a good handful of students were craning their necks in ways that are definitely counterintuitive to what the poses are intended for.

Steve doesn’t want to sound like a complete dickhead by saying that he knows he catches people’s attention, but well. He does. And with that in mind, it didn’t take long to notice more of what Sharon pointed out.

Minions were Steve’s defence tactic. He tells everyone it’s for the students more than his own welfare (because it is), but Sam, the one who came up with the scheme, keeps insisting he’s trying to make Steve a lady repellent so that Sam actually has a chance for the next time they he visits (he plans on telling everyone Steve is a Minions fanatic). Honestly, Sam is handsome as hell too, but Steve almost always takes the cake, which is totally unfair. Steve could use the handicap.

With Steve’s night job, he can’t help but to think this whole deal is a given occupational hazard.

***

Bucky’s lying on the couch with his head hanging off the edge in the most uncomfortable position possible. He has absolutely no reason to be doing so, and his neck is cramping up and he knows he should get up, but he doesn’t feel like it.

Today he had a day off, but the late night classes at NYU kind of ruined it. So now he’s just lying there.

It’s nearing on midnight and Bucky has an opening shift tomorrow. He knows he should sleep but he really can’t be bothered to drag his sorry ass up from the couch. Besides, he’s already brushed his teeth and stripped down for the night, so technically he could sleep here. It just means that he’ll wake up and go to work extremely cranky for having an unbearable pain in his neck.

Maybe he can wear it off with some coffee in the morning, he thinks wearily. Yeah, coffee… Shit, that sounds so good right now.

Bucky pats around on his stomach until he finds his phone and holds it above his face.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Bucky exclaims, rubbing his face where his phone just fell. Rude much.

He turns onto his side and types with the hand that isn’t trapped under his own body weight. For lack of anything better to do, and because his mind is too tired to be sensible, he texts Steve.

 **Bucky Barnes:** _i… i brushed my teach but want cof fee_

 **Cap:** _Awks_

 **Cap:** _Did you ask before you brushed him?_

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in confusion and rereads Steve’s text, then looks back at his own. Oh shit. He starts giggling, pure teenage girl-like _giggling_. He really needs sleep.

 **Bucky Barnes:** _oh god NO_

 **Cap:** _You didn’t ask? Oh my gosh Buck that’s not good_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _im half asleep and can barely type. fuck u._

 **Cap:** _Then sleep???_

And really, it should be that simple.

 **Bucky Barnes:** _don’t wanna_

There’s a moment before the next text comes in.

 **Cap:** _What are you even doing right now?_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _lyin on the couhc_

 **Cap:** _Uhuh. Should I come over?_

Bucky blinks at his too bright screen. There’s nothing that could have prompted that. Bucky didn't suggest that he can’t sleep. Maybe Steve just wants to join him in the sleepless hours for no reason. Awesome.

 **Bucky Barnes:** _if u want, sure_

 **Cap:** _Alright, gimme a sex_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _sure thing honey. when and wehre? ;)_

 **Cap:** _*sec. Fuck you._

Bucky grins. At least they’re even now.

***

It doesn’t occur to Bucky that Steve is actually coming over, and because he’s a lazy piece of shit, Bucky still doesn’t get up to at least put a shirt on. So when he opens the door, Steve instinctively glances down Bucky’s bare body, save for the boxers that are loosely hanging onto him.

“Classy,” Steve comments, slipping inside. Bucky rolls his eyes and ducks into his room to grab a shirt. He noticed Steve’s eyes linger just barely on the scarring between metal and flesh, and even though it wasn’t quite as intrusively as others have done before, he still felt too exposed.

“How come you’re still up anyway?”

Steve shrugs, kicking his feet up onto the table. Bucky narrows his eyes, though he’s genuinely pleased Steve feels comfortable enough to be casual around him after only two encounters and sporadic texts. If he’s completely honest with himself, Steve feels familiar to Bucky, and he likes to think it’s the same for Steve. “Would’ve been out later but work let me off early.”

Bucky tips his head to one side. “The school? They keep you out that late?”

The tips of Steve’s ears go red and Bucky suspects there’s something he’s not being told. “Uh, there was a staff dinner party thing…”

“Sure,” Bucky says slowly. It’s not his place to pry. He goes to the fridge and grabs two bottles of beer, offering one to Steve who graciously takes it. So much for Bucky’s brushed teeth.

They drink in comfortable silence, Bucky only moving to switch the TV on and flick through channels aimlessly. There’s nothing good on at this hour and they both know it.

Then, out of nowhere, Steve asks, “Tell me about yourself.”

“What?” Bucky replies. Real smooth.

“I don’t know much about you but you seem fun. Tell me something about yourself.”

Bucky watches Steve’s profile as he tips his head back to catch the last few drops in the bottle and takes the time to appreciate the length of Steve’s neck.

“This,” Bucky says, lifting his left hand and wiggling his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Steve staring in wonder. “Lost it in a meat grinder.”

Steve’s slight smile drops, a look of abhorrent horror overcoming his features. Bucky falls forward laughing because Steve’s face is absolutely _priceless_.

“Oh my _God_ , Bucky you can’t just _say_ that!”

Bucky doesn’t quite pick up on what Steve means, too busy laughing at him to put the pieces together. Then he sees Steve cover his junk with a grimace and Bucky starts up in another fit of laughter.

“Oh my God,” Bucky wheezes between laughs. He has to set his bottle on the table and wrap an arm around his stomach because he’s laughing so hard that it hurts. He wipes the corners of his eyes as he starts to calm down and says giddily, “I can’t believe that’s the first thing you thought of.”

“It’s late and I’m tired,” Steve whines, his feeble excuse crumbling before Bucky’s eyes as he notices a beautiful red blush flourishing on his cheeks.

“I’m sure you are,” Bucky murmurs. He lets it go and take another sip of his beer before turning sideways on the couch to face Steve. “Your turn. Tell me something about you.”

“I teach gym at a nearby high school and coach track and field. I run a lot.”

“That’s not fair,” Bucky deadpans. “I pretty much knew half of that already.”

Steve side eyes Bucky. “It’s not exactly like you lost your arm in a… _meat grinder,_ ” Steve says, shuddering at the repetition of those words. Bucky chuckles and drops his head onto the back of the couch.

“Fine, fine,” Bucky gives in. He combs his mind for something interesting about himself and comes up with: “I can speak fluent Russian.”

“Oh shit,” Steve muses, “That’s gotta be hot.”

«Eсли бы вы толко знали» Bucky mutters.

Steve’s eyes snap to Bucky’s, his mouth slack. Bucky smirks and presses the cool bottle to his lips, taking the last swig of alcohol and letting it sit low in his stomach. He glances back at Steve with a cautious look in his eye. He knows that if they keep this up he won’t be able to hold off, so Bucky opts for shifting the subject back to Steve, putting the ball in his court. “You again.”

Steve chews thoughtfully on his lip, his eyes lighting up before he says, “I have probably at least a hundred Minions in my office at the high school.”

Bucky stares. Is he fucking _serious_? Steve, despite his embarrassed laugh, holds up his front. He’s serious. “You’re serious.”

“I have a good reason!” Steve insists.

“Somehow I don’t think I want to know,” Bucky mutters. He doesn’t let Steve explain himself before rebounding with, “My co-workers like to set me up on a lot of blind dates. Almost all of them are terrible.”

“No way,” Steve says, sitting up straight and leaning closer immediately intrigued. The animated look in Steve’s eyes makes the corners of Bucky’s mouth twitch upwards. “You have to tell me about those.”

 Bucky rakes his mind for a good one. Of all the setups he’s had, it takes a while.

“That many?” Steve whispers incredulously.

“Not by choice. I swear my co-workers are trying to put me into a grave seventy years too early.”

“Someone’s expecting to live long,” Steve mutters. He laughs when Bucky shoots him a glare, and Bucky can’t help but to laugh with him.

“Got it,” Bucky says after another minute. Steve shuffles and perches his chin on his hands reminding Bucky vaguely of a child excited to hear the story about a hungry caterpillar for the millionth time. He bites his lip to fend of a smile before starting.

“It was… What just this summer? One of my co-workers, Mandy, told me she had a friend who was going to a concert. Mandy was working and couldn’t go and tried to convince me to go with her friend on a date. I figured it couldn’t hurt; concerts were a good time and even if it wasn’t that great I’d have somewhat decent company. Boy was I wrong.

“The music was pretty damn shit and I’m pretty sure the drummer was pissed out of his mind, so everything sounded like a mess.” Steve winces, obviously knowing the unfortunate experience of an unimpressive show. “We were somewhere near the front. The girl was cute but she was super into the music. It’s like she couldn’t tell how terrible it was. Now that I think about it, it’s kind of sad. Anyway, so. The most I could do to endure the thing was ogle the lead singer. He wasn’t spectacularly hot, but just enough so, you know what I mean?” Steve hums affirmatively, his lips twitching as if he’s trying not to burst out laughing.

“So afterwards the girl I was with wanted to hang around after and meet the band so I humoured her and went along. Long story short… I may have ended up flirting with the lead singer more than my actual date.”

“No,” Steve says, absolutely scandalized with his hand to his mouth. Bucky rolls his eyes and shoves Steve’s shoulder in jest.

“It’s just in my nature, I couldn’t help it!”

“Now _that_ I can believe,” Steve smirks. Bucky flips him off and ignores the comment.

“He gave me his number and left without even having talked to the girl who wanted so desperately to meet him. I didn’t really think about it until I turned to her and saw how devastated she looked. I said sorry straight away,” Bucky admits, though he doesn’t quite clarify how he said it (“Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to do that. Hah.”), not thinking it to be necessary. “I took her home and she didn’t say anything the whole way back. Except when she got out of the car.”

“What did she say?”

“‘Worst date ever.’”

Steve throws his head back with a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Bucky’s throat goes tight before he forces himself to look away.

“That’s amazing.”

“Really? Didn’t think it’s something to be proud of.”

“Trust me, it is,” Steve grins. Bucky feels a little better.

They keep at it for a while longer, tossing facts about themselves back and forth until they both feel drowsy enough to let the TV become their focus. Bucky certainly doesn’t mean for them to fall asleep on the couch, but they do.

He wakes up about an hour in, his neck protesting his attempts to sleep sitting up. Bucky steals a glance at Steve. He studies the way the moonlight falls through the windows and casts shadows beneath Steve’s cheekbones and eyelashes, making him look even more beautiful that Bucky first registered.

He stands up and shakes Steve just enough to lull him out of his sleep.

“Mmh?” Steve mumbles. His eyes flutter open (and really that’s more obscene than it should be) and Bucky can tell he’s about to wake up properly when he mumbles, “Where… Oh, I - ”

But Bucky cuts him off. “Shh, Steve. It’s alright just lie down and go back to sleep.”

Steve, pretty much still sleeping, doesn’t protest like Bucky thought he might. Instead, he spreads out on the couch. It’s too small for him, but he curls in on himself and makes it work. Bucky smiles tiredly and fetches an extra blanket from the vacant room in his apartment that he uses mainly for storage, coming back to tuck Steve in. He feels a bit ridiculous and smiles goofily, but does it nonetheless.

“G’night Cap,” Bucky whispers. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits his own pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Russian in this text translates to: "If only you knew." As most authors, I consulted google and used a few sites to try and get the best result. If anyone knows better and wants to correct me, please feel free (and I'm sorry omg). Update: correction from [BleedxLikexMe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedxLikexMe/pseuds/BleedxLikexMe) and further aid from an anonymous user Юлия Мазина
> 
> Next week I'll be down in Minnesota and most likely won't have my laptop at hand, so unfortunately you won't get an update unless I can figure something out. Hope you guys are having a great summer :-)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-author: [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com)  
> Thank you guys so much for your patience!! This should be the only late update I do because of the vacation I was on so yeah other than this week keep your Fridays marked for regular updates to this fic!

Bucky wakes up with a groan, peeling an eye open to grab his phone and turn the alarm off. He’s learnt the hard way that he can’t aggressively smash the snooze button, what with his left metal arm having way more strength than his right.

After a quick shower and changing into clean clothes, Bucky leaves his room, just about ready to dash off for work.

“Oh.”

Last night slowly comes back to him, explaining why Steve is asleep on Bucky’s couch. He looks kind of adorable.

“Steve?” Bucky says quietly, shaking him awake. Steve mumbles before startling awake.

“Huh? Buck?” Steve’s eyes are bleary and his cheeks look soft and pink from sleep. “Oh shit, did I – ”

“Yes you slept here, it’s fine. Listen, I have an opening shift at work and if I don’t leave in the next,” Bucky pauses to glance at his phone, “two minutes I’ll get caught up in a shitload of traffic and be late. I guess you probably have to get to the school in a bit, but feel free to take whatever. Look around, there should be some food in the fridge and you can make yourself coffee or whatever. I hate to run out on you like this, but.”

Steve, looking suddenly awake at the mention of school, nods. “Yeah, yeah that’s fine thanks, just – ”

Bucky grins at him and ruffles his hair before subconsciously leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Steve’s forehead and rushing to the door, waving over his shoulder. “Gotta go! Bye, I’ll see you later Steve!”

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Bucky freezes. He did not just do that.

 **Cap:** _Did you just kiss me on the head?_

“Fuck!” Bucky hisses, considering opening the door and apologizing. He has one minute to leave so that he makes it to work on time.

 **Bucky Barnes:** _what are you talking about? :-)_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _yeah totally didnt mean to do that tho sorry_

 **Cap:** _Whatever you say, Buck. Have a good day!_

Bucky smiles at his phone. He gives a quick nod to the person at the front desk and rushes out the door and onto his bike. In Bucky’s defence, nothing could have stopped that from happening with how soft and sleepy Steve looked. Well, whatever is in store for him today can’t be half as embarrassing as that was.

***

“Sarah you can’t just keep setting me up on blind dates,” Bucky whines, pouting and flailing his arms like a spoiled brat. “You’re my co-worker, you’re not supposed to be meddling with my love life.”

“Honey, you don’t even have a love life. You know you could use all the help you can get.”

Bucky glares at Sarah and crosses his arms dramatically. “It’s not help when all you do is set me up with shitty dates.”

“It’s not all her fault,” India cuts in, taking a supportive stance beside Sarah.

“So what are you teaming up with your terrible matchmaking forces to make my life miserable? And aren’t you supposed to be up on shift right now?”

“She’s on break with us,” Sarah says, her smile all too eager.

“Whatever,” Bucky mumbles. He needs to get away from these two now. Honestly he loves them; they’re fun and have good hearts, but whenever they mention _Sandy this,_ or _Tammy that_ , Bucky just wants to rip their heads off. “Last date you set me up on told me she wanted me to go steady with her after ten minutes. I’m not going through that again.”

Sarah and India exchange a meaningful glance, Sarah propping her hands on her hips as she says in a singsong voice, “Ooh, is there someone we don’t know about?”

Bucky’s cheeks immediately flare up at the reminder of Steve who was asleep on the couch this morning, and _no_. “No,” he snaps.

“There’s totally someone we don’t know about,” India states, smirking at Sarah who’s grinning back at her.

“Honestly, James, you can tell us who it is.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and plays it off. “No one, alright? Quit your chattin’. I don’t know about you but I have to get back to work.”

The girls both know that’s a lie, but they don’t bother trying to stop him from walking away. They know when they’ve been beat.

“Do you think we’ll ever find out who it is?” India asks thoughtfully, twisting the ring on her middle finger.

Sarah watches after Bucky and shrugs. “Doubt it.”

***

Bucky hadn’t been lying when he said there isn’t anyone in his life right now. Not in that way, at least. Steve is just a friend, and sure he isn’t clear on where they stand what with their shameless flirting, but he doubts Steve takes him for anything more. Even with how nauseatingly attractive Steve is, Bucky isn’t sure he’s really ready for anything more anyway. He likes the dynamic they have right now.

“So you could easily choose the Dana Rebecca geometric ring, but I have to say the Bony Levy 3-row really suits your hand,” Bucky all but purrs, gently holding the hand of his client in his own to admire the piece of jewellery on her. He gladly ignores the uncomfortable, almost irritated look on the Husband’s face, focusing solely on the woman before him.

“Oh Hank,” she says, turning to her husband and holding the ring up before him, “Isn’t it wonderful? And like the gentleman said, this one clearly looks better.”

Bucky paints on his most charming smile for the couple. If he makes this sale, he can make it out of the store without a worry tonight.

“It’s something, alright,” the man murmurs, though he doesn’t sound too enthused. “For the two thousand it’s up for.”

“If I may, sir,” Bucky interrupts, “this ring is limited edition, and exclusive to our stores. As beautiful as the Dana Rebecca is as a statement piece, there’s every chance someone else at the function you’re attending might have it. The Bony Levy however…” he trails off. He knows he’s close to landing it, especially with the enamoured look in the woman’s eyes. If he wins the wife over, the husband won’t be able to say no without divorce papers in hand.

“Here,” Bucky says coolly. The woman turns back to him and extends her hand for him to scrutinize the piece. “Now you see, this may be 18 karat white gold with diamonds of such a rare, perfect cut, but that’s nothing. You’ve heard the whole ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ thing, and the same goes for a piece of jewellery. They’re merely accessories, and Miss,” Bucky pauses.

“Rainer,” the lady provides, watching the way Bucky’s lips curl around each word. She didn’t even bother correcting Bucky to say Mrs.

“Miss Rainer here is worth more than this ring could ever be. That isn’t to say that it doesn’t add to her. This is more than just jewellery. This is an enhancement to her already young, animated, and poignant persona. The choice is yours to make,” Bucky finishes, giving _Mrs_. Rainer a shamelessly flirtatious glance that makes the poor woman blush. Bucky’s only lucky he can pick out the type of husbands that can and will take him on in a heartbeat before he starts hitting on their wives.

He lets go of the lady’s hand and stands up straight, turning his charismatic smile to the husband. “Of course, there would be no harm in going with the Dana Rebecca,” Bucky adds, knowing that he’s got Mrs. Rainer hooked on the Bony Levy.

“Hank,” she mutters to her husband pleadingly. Between both her and Bucky’s unrelenting gazes, Hank eventually gives in with a reluctant sigh before nodding to his wife. She smiles widely, practically jumping up and down the spot as she turns to Bucky and squeals, “We’ll take it!”

Hook, line, and sinker.

***

Bucky never intended to meet Tony Stark, but he supposes that’s the way life is with every meeting. When it happened, he was 20 and feeling reckless. He pulled some strings to get into Stark’s party, wanting nothing more than to let loose and forget everything that was happening to him. Apparently, getting smashed was his idea of dealing.

He woke up in the living room of Stark’s penthouse apartment and couldn’t for the life of him figure out where he was until a tall, lean woman with auburn hair stepped out from what Bucky vaguely recalled to be the kitchen, where there was a terribly messy array of drinks the night before. “Oh, you’re awake,” she commented dryly, tapping her thumbs on a phone and making her way to Bucky.

“Mr. Stark is having breakfast in the dining room. He’s invited you to join him if you’d wish. If not, then I can show you out.”

Bucky grimaced as he sat up, the unrelenting pounding in his head not sitting well with him. “Could you should me to a bathroom first?” he asked weakly.

“Pepper Potts,” she introduced herself, extending her hand for Bucky to shake. “Follow me.”

After cleaning up (and throwing up), Bucky made his way to join Tony for a hefty, greasy breakfast. Once he was somewhat sobered up, Tony kicked off a bit of conversation. Between their interest in science and their attempts to see who could maintain the most sarcasm and dry humour for the longest, Tony and Bucky hit it off quite well.

Which, Bucky supposes, is why he has a free pass to every party Tony’s thrown ever since.

“Hey I gotta go piss,” Bucky yells to Clint over the din. Clint makes a face and nods, turning back to Natasha who’s mixing his drink. She’s got a job as a bartender, but also works for Tony (doing what – no one knows), so most of the time when she shows up at one of his parties she ends up behind the bar.

Bucky weaves his way through the crowd of people, steering away from the toilets that Tony has for these parties. They’re always a complete mess and stink like sweat, alcohol, and a mix of bodily excretions. Thank God he knows Tony well enough to know and be allowed to use the cleaner ones.

On his way back to Clint and Natasha, Bucky is hazily wondering where Tony keeps the better drinks (because he knows he has some). Apparently he’s too deep in thought to notice the brick wall he runs into.

“Bucky?” Okay, not a brick wall.

Bucky looks up to find Steve watching him curiously.

“We’ve got to st-”

“Don’t,” Bucky warns. Steve grins at him, and even though Bucky only has one drink in him, he’s finding himself wanting to lean in and taste the arch of Steve’s tongue. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh,” Steve says, eyebrows raised. “Party.” He says it as if it suffices as an explanation, which, in all honesty, it does.

“Right. Who’re you here with?” There’s little to no chance Steve knows Tony personally, not when he just moved here a few weeks ago.

“A work friend, actually. Bruce Banner, he’s the science teacher at the school I’m at.”

“No shit. Does he know Tony?”

“Oh yeah, Banner told me he pretty much lives here when he’s not at the school.”

“Better hope he ain’t trying to get between Stark and Potts. That woman throws a bitch of a punch.”

“He’s only ever here for work purposes,” Steve answers, taking a sip of his drink, “and parties. Also, I like that you know that about Pepper.”

Bucky smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. Everyone he knows has probably hit him at least once. Steve’s probably next in line.

“How about you? All here by yourself on a Saturday night?”

“Ha, I wish. No, I’m with my friends Nat and Clin- Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God, Steve you have to come with me.”

“What for?”

Bucky’s eyes are wide and he looks positively smug. “You remember that proposal I gave you when we first met?”

“I think it’s hard to forget when someone asks you to make a life commitment to them, yes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes before continuing, “Well the thing is, I did that for a bet. I sent Clint a picture of the tiny onion ring and he told me to go propose to some stranger. If I won, his end of the bet was to tell our friend Nat he thinks she’s hot. If I lost, then he could keep his mouth shut. See, Nat isn’t just… She’s deadly threatening and if you say one wrong thing to her, you-”

“You’ll end up on your deathbed,” Steve finishes, a devious grin on his lips. Bucky’s almost distracted by how sinful it looks.

“ _Exactly_. So this whole time he held off on it because he didn’t believe you actually said yes to me; thinks I just want to give the eulogy at his funeral before I get too old to be pretty when I’m sad.”

“I have the onion ring in my freezer,” Steve admits. Bucky’s jaw drops. “What? I couldn’t just keep it out; it’d spoil!”

The only thing keeping Bucky from tearing every last shred of clothing off of Steve is the fact that he has a friend to kill. Not exactly the best way to word it, but it’s not far from where this is headed.

“We might not need the ring,” Bucky says seriously. Steve can’t fend off the smile tugging at his lips. “But how well can you play husband material?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Steve wipes off his drink (probably something fruity judging by the colour), and sets it aside. He wets his lips and leans in close to Bucky, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into his side. Steve ducks his head down to whisper into the shell of Bucky’s ear, “Honey, have you _seen_ me?”

 _Fuck_.

Steve can’t help but to grin at Bucky’s involuntary shiver, but thankfully he’s falling into step beside him as they make their way to Clint, too busy to notice the way Bucky’s worrying his lower lip. His brain is working double time through the round of scotch he had to not repeat that phrase in his mind, the way Steve’s voice dropped low and sultry with something feral. He’s just playing the part, Bucky reminds himself.

“Hey, Clint!” Bucky calls when he’s in their line of sight. A smug smile curls on his lips once they get closer. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Clint does a double take of Steve, giving Bucky a meaningful glance. “Oh? Who’s this?”

Steve extends his free hand forward and smiles sweetly. “Hi, I’m Steve Barnes.”

Bucky falters for a quick second.

“What, is this your cousin or something?” Clint asks Bucky. He doesn’t miss the very deliberate placement of Steve’s arm, and how Steve is very distractingly rubbing his thumb near the bottom of Bucky’s shirt, threatening to go under the fabric and tease at the waistline of his jeans. Speaking of which, Bucky has some fantastic jeans on right now. He kind of hopes Steve has noticed.

“He hasn’t told you about me?” Steve replies. “I was sure he would have let his friend know about me after he _proposed_ to me, but I guess I was wrong.”

Bucky adores those moments where something comical occurs in real life; feels the urge to whip out his phone to film them even though it’ll take away from the authenticity of it all. Just like the slow horror of realization dawning on Clint’s face.

“No, no. Nonononono. No, Bucky you piece of shit, _no_. I want proof. Solid proof.”

“I have the ring back at home if you want to see it,” Steve offers, not letting up on his sincere husband front.

“No, he hired you and set this up. He told you everything and gave you the ring because the _real_ Steve didn’t take it, did he?”

Steve throws Clint an apologetic look. “I _am_ the real Steve. I’ve got ID for you righ-”

“How do I know you’re _the_ Steve?” Clint snaps back, clearly panicking. He’s only lucky Natasha is down the line serving someone else and not here overhearing his ruin.

“You remember how afterwards I kept complaining about how hot he is?” Bucky offers. “Isn’t this Steve also ridiculously hot?”

Bucky flinches when he feels Steve’s fingers pinch his skin, because somehow he was too busy to notice that Steve got under his shirt ever so slightly. Steve gives him a knowing smile, but Bucky just scrunches his nose and turns back to Clint, who’s basically grasping at straws now.

“There are so many Steve’s in New York. Hundreds, maybe _thousands_. Out of all of them there are a handful of Strikingly Hot Steve’s. You just found one and-”

“I have a friend, his name’s Sam?” Steve suggests. “He saw what happened.”

“No,” Clint bites, jabbing a finger at Steve’s very firm chest. “No, you hired this _Sam_ guy, too!”

“Uh,” Bucky hesitates, “I do have… One piece of solid evidence.”

“What is it?”

“I kind of took a photo of his ass when he was walking away,” Bucky admits, the words leaving his mouth so fast Clint and Steve almost missed them.

“Oh my God,” Steve mutters. Bucky is blushing furiously, and Clint, being the asshole that he is, is laughing so hard he has to get off his stool to stay upright. It’s like he forget his impending doom.

“That’s bullshit. Show me.”

Bucky reluctantly digs his phone out of his pocket, careful to move in a way that Steve can keep his arm around him. Who can blame him if he likes that?

“Nah, that’s just any random dude with a cute ass,” Clint says confidently when he sees the picture.

Steve takes a look at the photo before turning around (sadly leaving Bucky cold at the loss of his touch).

“Compare,” Bucky says, having gotten the idea. Clint looks between the photo and Steve’s ass quite shamelessly, though only because it’s for the sake of… science? Bucky doesn’t think himself exempt from examining the comparison.

Steve turns back around and points out a man near the left side of the picture. “See that? That’s my buddy Sam. He’s back up in D.C. now, but I can show you pictures on my own phone.”

“It – It’s not…” Clint trails off, realizing that the battle he thought he won is slowly but surely being lost. “The… the date of the picture it’s not…”

“But it is,” Bucky says in a sickly sweet voice. He proves it, and Clint looks like he’s about to throw up.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Clint mutters.

“What’s happening?”

Clint’s face drains of all colour when he turns to see Nat behind the bar. “I – Bucky’s married!”

“Oh?” Natasha comments, clearly not believing it for a second (which is really kind of insulting). “Can’t be to this specimen, right?”

Bucky watches with awe as Steve ducks his head and actually _blushes_.

“Gosh James, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! It’s not like you to elope.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky mumbles, glaring back at her. She smirks and towels off the surface, pouring Bucky a glass of scotch without a single prompt. As much as he hates Nat right now, he could never hold a grudge against her.

“Hey, Clint,” Bucky says smoothly, “Didn’t you have something to say to Nat?”

Clint shoots Bucky a look that can only say, “fuck you,” and tries to find an excuse to leave.

“Oh?”

Knowing he’s caught, Clint takes his place back on his stool, his final resting place, and faces Nat. He takes a while and stumbles a lot, but eventually lets out the words, “I think you’re hot.”

Natasha doesn’t even skip a beat before replying, “You’re not so bad yourself, soldier,” in the most unmistakable flirtatious tone Bucky has _ever_ heard from her.

“This cannot… _no_ ,” Bucky whines.

“Not on his deathbed yet,” Steve mutters beside Bucky. He places a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Grab that scotch; you’re gonna need it.”

“Man when I said that I got knocked out. Clint does it and he’s gonna get knocked up. Not fair.”

“Don’t you mean Nat?” Steve asks.

“No, not really.” Bucky grabs his drink and glares one last time at Clint and Nat who are now full on flirting, Clint’s nerves slowly dissipating as he becomes more sure of Natasha’s interest in him.

So much for that beautiful eulogy.

***

Bucky loses track of time and drinks, but Steve keeps an eye on him all night. When he’s sure Bucky should get home and not so sure about whether or not he can stay over at Tony’s, Steve opts for dragging Bucky’s drunken ass back to his own apartment for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :-) Kudos, comments, and messages on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu) are much appreciated! Hope you're enjoying this~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-author [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com)  
> Everything about this fic makes me so excited to share it every damn week. You guys are giving me the best responses and making me happy beyond belief and I can't stop writing.  
> P.s. sorry for all the despicable memes.... (pun creds to Paige.)  
> Halsey's Badlands just came out and I listened to it while editing this chapter. Check it.  
> I should probably mention my headcanon is that both Steve and Bucky are bisexual...  
> Any credits for major or even minor plot details I will probably note at the very end of this project.

Bucky does not understand why he is up at four am padding towards his door. If he weren’t so tired, he might be more confused than pissed at the incessant knocking, yanking the door open.

“Steve?”

Why is Steve at his door at ass o’clock in the morning with bags and boxes in tow? And more importantly why are his eyes red and –

“Uh. Hi.”

“What’s up?” Bucky’s brows draw together, squinting at Steve as his eyes are still attempting to adjust.

Steve forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I… I got kicked out and I need a place to stay for a while because I never found a new place that I could afford and – Oh. Right, sorry you uh. You said I could stay here if I ended up getting booted but… Shit, you were super drunk that night I brought you back from Tony’s and it was dumb of me to… I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry I’ll just,” Steve mumbles, about to turn away.

“Wait, wait,” Bucky calls. Steve looks at him through his hopeful but exhausted eyes.

“Come in and put your stuff down. I’m tired just looking at you. I have no fucking clue what’s happening right now, but just settle in or whatever; sleep on the couch for now if you want and… I’ll talk to you when I’m actually conscious.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and he stares for a second before nodding quickly and stepping into Bucky’s apartment.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, but Bucky just waves it off and mumbles something unintelligible as he makes his way back to his bed.

***

Steve sets his things aside and runs back downstairs to fetch Winona and Judd who he left back at the front desk. Once he’s back up, he sits on Bucky’s couch and twiddles his thumbs. He feels awkward and intrusive, and nothing about the pressing silence is helping his situation.

He tries lying down on the couch and shutting his eyes, and even though he’s tired his mind won’t quieten down for long enough. In the dim lit apartment Steve is beginning to feel impossibly small, almost as if he’s reverting back to what he used to be, frail bones and all.

Sam warned him and all the signs were there. Steve was just stupid enough to think that he could keep it up, partially in the hopes of staying in a close proximity of Bucky.

It was stupid and Steve _knows_ it, wants to say sorry a thousand times for not having anyone else to go to, for not being smarter about all this.

His throat starts to close up and he shoots up in a panic.

Steve shouldn’t open Bucky’s bedroom door, and he shouldn’t wake him up again to say sorry and insist he’ll leave immediately. He only gets halfway through that list of things he shouldn’t do when he looks at Bucky sleeping.

Truth be told he looks kind of stupid with his face pressed into the sheets, his mouth half open and drooling. Steve supposes he just flopped and crashed as soon as he could. Even then, Steve finds it stupidly endearing. He avoids mapping out the bare skin of Bucky’s back and feels his thoughts slow down, the stress departing from the tension in his muscles.

Steve doesn’t exactly think before settling onto the empty side of the bed and falling asleep.

***

“Steve?” Bucky mumbles. He’s finally awake and feels a little more alive than he did earlier that morning. Strange thing is, he remembers Steve coming to him, just not the part where he came and slept beside Bucky. Surely Bucky didn’t do anything stupid if he remembers that much, right?

“Steve,” he repeats, waking the other man up gently. He’s found himself doing that a lot more than he would expect lately.

It takes Steve a minute to catch his bearings, and once he does the first thing he does is mutter, “Fuck.”

Bucky grins and laughs it off. “It’s fine, the bed’s better than the couch anyway. Just didn’t expect to find you in bed with me so soon.”

Steve gapes, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “That’s not fair, you can’t say shit like that when I’m hardly awake. My wit hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“And mine is everlasting,” Bucky comments.

“So it seems.”

Bucky, too comfortable in his own skin, doesn’t notice that he’s half naked until Steve sits up and gives him the once over.

“Not fair that you get to check me out when you’re all covered up.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves at Bucky’s shoulder. He stands up and stretches his arms over his head, making his way out of Bucky’s room.

“Sorry about… this,” Steve says over his shoulder. Bucky makes a noise before coming out of his room, now clad in a t-shirt rather than just underwear.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky replies. “Wanna tell me what happened? I’ll fix up some coffee.”

Steve nods and aimlessly follows Bucky towards the kitchen, planting himself on a bar stool. “I kind of got kicked out because the landlord found out I had the fish more than a week after the notice went out. I’m not sure how they found out but I’m pretty sure it was the blonde across the hall,” Steve finishes bitterly.

“Oh? Harvesting some resentment there, I see.”

“A few days ago she wanted to hang out with me in my apartment. In hindsight I should’ve said no, or at least gone for some place that’s public.”

“She jumped you?”

Steve grimaces but nods awkwardly. “Kind of. She uh. Tried to come on to me and I had to get her out. I guess I left the fish in plain sight and she had some vengeance plan for me not putting out.”

“Man,” Bucky remarks, “I’ve been on some shitty dates but that one takes the cake. Getting thrown out for not… Damn. What now?”

“Well. I find a new place.”

“Yeah?”

“I guess, I mean. I can’t stay here, so I have to find some place to go.”

Bucky takes the fresh brew and pours it into two mugs. “Why not? I mean I have the space. Got an entire spare room that’s not being used.”

“You have a spare room?”

Bucky shrugs. “I used to have a roommate but he wanted to move out with his girlfriend. It’s been empty for a while now. Use it for my friends sometimes, or my sister if she comes over.”

Steve takes the coffee with thanks and sets it on the table, wrapping his fingers around the cup. “How much is rent? I mean, if… If that’s an offer to take me in. God, I’m like a stray cat.”

“Hey, stray cats are cuter than you, okay? Don’t go dragging them down to your level. And rent is nothing; the place is mine.”

“The building?” Steve asks, eyes going super wide.

Bucky watches Steve closely, not wanting to believe that Steve might be serious. “Man you really need that coffee. Not the building, punk. The apartment.”

Steve looks ridiculous when he’s embarrassed. He ducks his head and his eyes flit to the ground, and even though he tries to hide it Bucky can make out the blush colouring his cheeks. “Right.”

“But yes, if you’re wondering. It is an offer. Short term or long term, your choice.”

Steve takes a sip of the coffee, cautious not to burn his tongue. He lets out a deep sigh and drops his head to the counter. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Bucky shrugs. “Only if you want me to be joking, then sure.”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” Steve says, lifting his head only enough to stare at Bucky.

“Totally,” Bucky swears, putting his hands up in the air.

“You’re a fucking saviour.”

“Nah, just an amputee with a wicked awesome arm.”

Steve gives Bucky a fleeting glance of disbelief. “Monthly rent: what do you want?”

Bucky shrugs again, and his nonchalance starting to piss Steve off. How can he be so chill? “Whatever you can give, or nothing.”

“Nothing,” Steve deadpans. This guy is fucking _insane_.

“Pay for dinner once in a while, sure. If you’re staying longer than just a week or whatever, then I still have to pay the place off. If you can spare some, I’d appreciate the help.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, nodding rapidly. “Yeah, I can do that. And uh… We can switch off for groceries or something.”

“I order in a lot,” Bucky admits. “But if you want, then sure.”

Steve frowns briefly. “No home cooked dinners? Man, I’m going to start cooking for us.”

“You know how?”

“Sam taught me a few things,” Steve explains.

Bucky nods. “Sweet.”

“Sweet.”

Just like that, Steve, the bane of Bucky’s existence, the foreseeable cause of his downfall, is Bucky’s new roommate. This will be fun.

***

“James,” Natasha says in greeting. Bucky smiles with pursed lips and slips in past her.

“Traitor,” he mumbles back, though quietly in fear of losing his good arm. He knows she heard it anyway.

Bucky drops down onto the couch and starts changing the channel. “Drink please,” he whines.

“I was watching ‘Say Yes to the Dress’, how dare you change it?” she asks, only half joking as she goes to the fridge.

Bucky makes an unimpressed face when she chucks him a bottle of cold water. “Seriously? None of that Russian Vodka you’re always taking?”

Natasha cracks open her own bottle and sits next to him, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “It’s not even past 5pm, James, so even if I do have some you’re not getting any.”

“Rude,” Bucky grumbles. He attempts to take a sip of water but valiantly ends up taking it down the wrong way, forcing him into a coughing fit. “Stop laughing!” Bucky says between coughs, pushing Nat away so she stops mockingly slapping his back.

“There, all better.”

“Sure,” Bucky mutters, feeling ten times smaller.

“So why are you really here?”

“What, besides to steal your TV and water?”

“Clint’s off shift in an hour and he’ll be coming right back. Won’t be too pleased if you’ve come for more than that.”

“Yeah like I’d cross either of you,” Bucky comments. “Also, hey, that – Why the fuck did _I_ end up with a broken nose and he ended up with you?”

Natasha shrugs, tucking her red hair behind her ears. “Sometimes you know what you want well before you get it.”

“And you couldn’t have told me? You just _hit me_?”

“I panicked, so what? And why are you bothered, you’ve got your husband Steve now. How’s he?”

Bucky scowls at Natasha’s lame excuse. “He moved in this morning.”

“Isn’t that doing thing backwards?”

“Oh,” Bucky comments, replaying what Natasha said and blushing slightly. He tilts his head, hoping it’ll evade her notice, but she’s Natasha so it doesn’t. “Yeah, about that. Not my husband.”

“Oh, really? Never would have thought you’d lie to me about something so important,” Nat deadpans, lifting an eyebrow.

“He’s just… A guy and,” Bucky tries.

“You just let ‘ _a guy_ ’ come live in your apartment? And left him there?”

Bucky shifts on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable. “He’s… A friend.”

“Oh God, I can see where this is going.”

“No!” Bucky pleads. “He… He _is_. I don’t even know if he – ”

“That’s bullshit. I saw him feeling you up at Tony’s that night when you were talking to Clint. You and I both know it. Besides, with your ass any guy, straight or not,” she cuts off, making a clicking noise between her teeth. Bucky grins wryly.

“Thanks, but it’s…”

“I swear Barnes, if you say complicated I’m redirecting you to Clint’s teenage niece for advice.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky huffs. “It’s not that. He’s… We’ve been flirting around each other since the second we met and it’s like it’s become a game. And he’s great, he’s charming and everything and I don’t want to fuck that up, you know?”

“So what? The two of you are going to keep up this whole teasing thing to your graves? James, you’ve got a life and a half set up for yourself, I must say.”

Bucky flips Nat off and sinks back into the couch, turning his focus back to some stupid show on TV where someone is attempting to wrangle a reptile.

“Fuckin’ wannabes,” Bucky mutters at the TV. “Imposters.”

“If you don’t go for it I know a slew of people ready to take him on. You too, for that matter.”

Bucky goes silent, Nat instinctively knowing he’s done with the conversation. He’s guessing he’ll have to take her up on that offer, even if it means more terrible dates.

Maybe she’s right. They’ll keep dancing their way around each other and find other people. It’s fine though. It’s not like he’s attached to Steve; he doesn’t have a claim on him.

None of this has to do with how Bucky suddenly feels sick and vaguely hollow.

Nat fetches that rare vodka she stows away.

***

“Steve, why are Window and Judd on the office floor?”

“Because you don’t use that room.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Buck, there’s two books, no desk, and a few boxes stacked there. You don’t use it. Let the kids have their privacy.”

“Fine.”

***

Adjusting to having someone else in Bucky’s place after having lived alone for so long is a challenge. Even though they’re busy and their schedules don’t collide, the two of them see enough of each other for Bucky to _almost_ remember there’s someone else living in the flat.

(Bucky was up late finishing an essay and decided to stay up even later on the Internet, wasting away the hours since he didn’t work until closing the next night. He finally left his room at two am for a glass of water and a quick snack.

The light was still on, and Bucky was confused for a split second before he registered Steve curled up on the couch with a notebook and pen in hand.

“You forgot again, didn’t you Buck?”

Bucky grumbled, grabbed some stuff, and went back to his room, pointedly ignoring Steve’s fond laughter.)

Neither of them ever had a deal with personal space, or if they did they got over it pretty quickly. Sometimes they’ll be in the kitchen together when Steve insists on making Bucky help him cook “real food” and since the kitchen isn’t so big, they bump into each other quite often. It’s not long before this issue turns into more of a competition, seeing who can hip bump the strongest and shove the other out of the way, gaining the right of way.

Sometimes it’s the smaller things, where Steve will leave Bucky a plate of food nicely wrapped up with a little sticky note on it that has nothing more than a smiley face on it each time, or the way Bucky leaves the light on when Steve comes back home late (which is oddly often, but Bucky doesn’t bother asking).

All in all, Bucky thinks they’ve got living together down quite well. It scares him.

***

Bucky has been working non-stop since Steve moved in and his assignments are getting tough to balance. So of course, after having handed in the last one and finally getting some down time, Tony drags him out of his impossibly comfortable apartment.

“Where are we going?” Bucky whines.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Tony mumbles. He offers Bucky a drink, but refuses to give him a straight up scotch just yet. “Can’t have too much in you or you won’t enjoy the show.”

The show? Is Tony taking him to a dance recital? A musical? Wh… He knows Bucky sleeps through those kind of things (except if it’s Natasha dragging him along. She has too many terrifying ways of waking Bucky up that he’s learnt it best to try and pay attention).

“Seriously?” Bucky says when they come to a stop. He looks out the window to double check. Yep, they’re at a strip club.

“You need to unwind,” Tony insists, shoving Bucky out the open door. Bucky rolls his eyes but goes with it. Maybe it’ll do him some good.

They end up sitting in a booth up against one wall, Tony suggesting that they can watch from there if he’s more comfortable, at least until he gets a few drinks in him.

The air is heavy and thick, and the entire place smells like sweat and alcohol. There’s nothing sexy about it really, the music thumping so loud it just sounds like someone turned the bass up too much and is trying to make the patrons’ ears bleed. The dancers make their way through and around the crowd, and a few end up near the table.

“I need another drink to take this,” Bucky admits wearily. If he spends the night in this place sober he will probably spend it being more disgusted than remotely turned on.

A few drinks down the line, Bucky starts to loosen up enough to let one of the female strippers into his side of the booth.

“What are we looking for today?” she asks in a sultry voice. Bucky holds down a grimace and pulls out some of the cash Tony slapped into his hand. He tucks a few bills into her waistband and whispers something in her ear. She pulls back and nods with a sly grin before getting up from his lap and leaving.

“What did you just say?” Tony asks, looking up from his phone. Bucky figures he’s probably texting Pepper and can’t wrap his head around why Tony brought Bucky to a strip club when he’s clearly into her. He’s about to ask as such when the girl comes back and taps him on the shoulder.

“I uh, I have to go toilet,” Bucky says. Tony nods, actually believing him for once. It’s not like Bucky’s lying; his bladder hasn’t been emptied for a few hours and he’s starting to get uncomfortable. What he said to the girl was more something along the lines of taking him to get some male attention.

He lets her drag him around and point out the good spots, including the stage that will soon be occupied by a mix of men and women, then she takes him to the restrooms.

“Have fun big boy,” she says. Bucky doesn’t bother hiding his cringe as she turns her back and walks away.

Just as she said, Bucky notes as people start filling up the centre stage and he decides he can hold it for another two hours if need be. He keeps his spot near the back, well away from the stage, and watches several bodies spread out to empty spots, moving purposefully with every step.

It’s quite captivating to watch the more experienced dancers sway to the fuzzy beat of the music, using every opportunity to reach down and grab as many peoples’ attention as they can. It’s not long before money is being flung at them as their clothing is shed, the lower revealing layers earning whistles that sound better than the muffled noise that’s passing as music.

There’s another, stronger round of applause, catcalls, and whistles as some dancers leave the stage and new ones approach. There’s a lot of guys, and Bucky’s interest is immediately piqued.

He assesses all of them briefly, deciding a specific one off to the right has the best build to Bucky’s taste, broad shoulders leading down to shapely arms. Bucky’s interested in seeing if he’s got a face to match his body and waits impatiently for him to turn.

It’s Steve.

No, _no_ , no it’s _not_ fucking Steve because… Well actually it could be and that would explain a lot, but _no_. Steve would have told him, right?

Bucky should really get used to this by now, the whole being surprised by him every time he lets his guard down thing. God, at this rate Steve could end up being a fucking lawyer on the side too and Bucky wouldn’t know it.

He moves closer, just enough to confirm his suspicion. Bucky finds himself watching Steve’s movements a little too closely, probably actually getting turned on for the first time this entire night. He tries not to think about it too much, half of his brain panicking and yelling, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” while the other half is paying attention to the little things Steve does that makes his mouth go dry. He’s seen Steve’s bare skin before, even felt it, but in this space and seeing how he can use it, Bucky suddenly want to know how it tastes, how it feels to have Steve’s muscles move beneath his fingertips.

Bucky’s pretty sure Steve is racking up the most money out of the lot and really he doesn’t blame the crowd. Bucky’s really fucking thrown off by all it, and in his confusion and fascination, ends up watching the whole thing until Steve makes his way off stage.

Fuck. He has to get out of there before Steve sees him.

Bucky rushes back to Tony’s table, and he knows he looks more flustered than he should.

“What’s up?” Tony asks. Bucky glances over his shoulder to check the crowd and gets increasingly paranoid that the tall head of blond hair approaching their end of the club is Steve.

“This was fun and all,” Bucky says quickly, “but I have to go. My sister called, and…” Bucky trails off. He knows that Tony can see right through him, can see that look of disbelief in his eyes, but Tony also knows Bucky well enough to know that if he pulls the Sister Card, he desperately needs an out that Tony won’t deny. And if Bucky’s sister actually does need him, Tony won’t ever hold him back.

“I’m going to stay a bit longer; some friends are going to join me. Make sure you get a taxi, alright?”

Bucky nods, feeling the warmth in the pit of his stomach at Tony’s concern. He’s always got Bucky’s back, even in the smallest of ways. He’s a mother hen in a lot of ways, but Bucky wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Bucky doesn’t look back once as he hightails it out of the joint, trying to walk as straight a path as he can. He’s still trying to wrap his head around it as he hails a taxi and rambles off his address.

 _Steve is a part-time stripper_.

The whole drive home, Bucky has a hard time ignoring the automatic playback of _‘mmm watcha say’_ repeating obnoxiously in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? You didn't see that coming?  
> ... I'm the lamest please ignore me I don't understand why people read this fic it is a massive joke full of stupid memes I cannot believe....  
> Anyway so yeah. Steve's moved in. This is uh... normal? WELP till next Friday folks~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-author: [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com)  
> Shoutout to my best bud Paige who told me the banter is good. I love moo!  
> (As always, thank you to all readers, old and new. I love you so much.)  
> Posting early because I need a pick me up from this bummer first week at uni ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Steve turns the key in the lock as quietly as he can and sighs minutely when there’s no telling noise, as if he would unlock it and an explosion would go off to wake Bucky up. He’s decidedly not told Bucky about his night job, and he plans to keep it that way. So far every time he comes back late, Bucky has been fast asleep and Steve has had nothing to worry about, no questions to face. Tonight will be the same.

Except the light is on, and Steve’s eyes immediately flick to the couch where Bucky has his knees tucked close to his body, scrolling on his phone. Bucky looks up straight away and Steve’s breath catches in his throat ever so slightly.

“You’re still up,” Steve observes, lifting the end of the statement into a question.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, shuffling on the spot. He keeps his phone in his hands, his eyes flitting down every now and then. Steve shouldn’t be as worried as he is; Bucky couldn’t know. “Yeah, I had stuff to do and I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d wait up for you.”

Steve nods and shuts the door behind him, making his way to his room. “If I’d known you were going to wait up so late I’d have been back earlier.”

Bucky just shrugs. Okay.

“I’m uh. I need to take a quick shower. If you want to wait still I’ll be fast, and then I’ll eat or something.”

“Alright.”

Feeling like his mom caught him stealing a cookie in the middle of the night, Steve nods awkwardly and ducks out as fast as he can. He’s just being paranoid.

The hot shower is refreshing and helps to clear off the grime and sweat. Once he’s satisfied the soap has covered up all possible signs of any other weird smells, Steve turns the water onto cold and shivers at the change in temperature. It’s a good distraction to keep him from panicking for no reason.

Bucky watches Steve when he comes out of the bathroom all fresh and flushed, his hair matted against his forehead at some parts. He doesn’t bother saying anything; not knowing what to say if he tried. He’s thankful that he can hold his drinks and didn’t drink too much so that, however this goes, Bucky’s sobered up enough to not say anything stupid. He hopes.

Steve takes out the food Bucky ordered in that night and heats it up in the microwave, too lost in his busy thoughts to notice Bucky coming up behind him, which is why he jumps a little when Bucky says, “I’m gonna steal some of your food. ‘M hungry.”

“Well you shouldn’t have stayed up this late,” Steve counters with an easy smile. Just paranoid.

They don’t say much until they’re at the table, Bucky sitting across the table with a fork, occasionally nicking some noodles off of Steve’s plate.

“So how was your day?” Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs. “Fine, I guess. Same old shit, you know how it goes.” It’s funny, Steve thinks, because Bucky has no _idea_ how it goes.

There’s a lingering silence that weighs so heavy on Steve’s shoulders he feels like he could cut it with a knife. They’ve had their silences before, while watching mindless TV, or sitting around doing nothing at all, but they’ve always been easy and understanding. Steve’s pulse is racing, and he can only hope Bucky can’t see the thrumming of his veins beneath his skin.

“I saw you tonight,” Bucky says.

There it is. Steve freezes up, halfway through twirling some noodles onto his fork. “Oh?” he asks, voice noticeably tight. He winces, hoping Bucky doesn’t know him well enough to pick up on it.

Steve hasn’t always had a good resting heartbeat, especially when he was younger and all skin and bones, but it’s been a long, long time since he felt it this badly, his head rushing. He takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll help ground him. It doesn’t.

If Bucky had a proper clock rather than a single digital one, Steve is sure he would get even more anxious as the seconds audibly ticked by until he burst into a confetti shower. That would be a way to go.

“I think I did, at least,” Bucky adds cautiously. “I’m not sure… Tony dragged me out and… _areyouaparttimestripperbecauseithinkisawyouatthatplaceanditwouldexplainalotofthings._ ”

Steve’s eyes are fixed on his food, his eyes wide, trying everything in his power to keep calm. The words Bucky rushed out in a single breath are not just his imagination. He knows by the way the following silence is even worse than before, pressing on his eardrums to the point where he wants to leave the building.

He takes a deep breath, the anxiety of whether or not Bucky will kick him out settling in the back of his mind as he steels up.

“Is that a problem?”

Bucky flinches at the foreign hostility in Steve’s voice. He reassesses his approach to the situation, the way he’s been acting since Steve came home, and realizes what this must look like.

“Oh my God, Steve no, it’s not like that. Do you _know_ how many people would want to be able to say they live with a stripper?”

Bucky’s blunt comment startles a laugh out of Steve, and even though the sound of it makes Bucky a thousand times more relaxed, his cheeks flush red at the realization that he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Seriously?” Steve asks, that familiar, teasing tone in his voice accompanied by his stupid smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Bucky wants to kiss the fuck out of him.

“I-I didn’t…” Bucky stutters, covering his face with his hands to hide his blush. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he mumbles into his hands.

“Oh it’s fine,” Steve says cheerily, way too smug for his own good. He’s used to this, and so far nothing as terrible as his worst-case scenarios has gone down. Steve’s starting to calm down a bit. “I just can’t believe that’s the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Shut up,” Bucky mumbles, flipping Steve off. “What I meant to say is that it’s completely fine. I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me.”

Steve fiddles with his food, not having bothered to eat any since the topic started. He can feel the tension brought on by the anxiety starting to crawl up his neck, tightening his shoulders. “I… It never came up before. I guess I didn’t think it’d be the best thing to say and I… I thought if you knew you’d kick me out.”

Bucky leans forward on his forearms and looks at Steve dead serious. “Did you not hear what I blurted out before?”

“Well I didn’t know that then, did I?” Steve retorts, laughing through his easing discomfort.

“How long did you think you’d be able to keep it from me, anyway? You go out like what, three times a week at least? I doubt you have anything more scandalous than stripping on the side to keep you out so late.”

Steve huffs, blinking rapidly and looking anywhere but at Bucky. “Fine, it was stupid, alright?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and grins. He’s glad they got it out of the way that easily. Besides taking it as a huge shock, Bucky can’t say he’s mad or averted to Steve staying now that he knows the truth. It might make it a little more difficult to ignore when they brush past each other, but it’s fine, Bucky reasons. He’ll deal.

“If you aren’t gonna finish your food I’ll gladly take it from you,” Bucky says, reaching for Steve’s plate only to have his hand slapped away.

“I’m eating it, you little shit,” Steve bites, narrowing his eyes before getting back to his food. Bucky jokingly scowls at him before settling back into his seat.

“So how – Am I allowed to ask you things?”

Steve raises a brow and watches Bucky calculatingly. “No,” Steve says decidedly, “I will not strip for you in the confines of this apartment.”

Bucky’s jaw drops, his mind suddenly overtaken by images that he _does not need_ while he’s sitting at the table with Steve. “That was not what I was going to ask,” Bucky mutters, mind still lost in wandering thoughts. “Wait, does that mean you’ll strip for me _outside_ the apartment?”  

“Oh my God, Bucky, _no!_ ”

“Don’t sound so surprised; you’re the one that worded it that way.”

“I,” Steve tries, though he doesn’t quite know what to say. He sighs in defeat and rolls his eyes. “What are your questions?”

“I’m just genuinely curious: how long have you been doing this for?”

Steve huffs a laugh and nods, as if thinking to himself, _Of course Bucky would ask that_. He can’t help that it also makes his cheeks go pink, which has Bucky staring in amazement over how _Steve the Stripper_ can blush. “I uh,” Steve starts, “I started back while I was in D.C. but it hasn’t been that long. Year and a half?”

“Not that long you say,” Bucky gapes. A year and a half of Steve stripping? Bucky’s rethinking how smart it was to ask that question when his mind gets to work on what that means for Steve’s skill level.

“It’s kinda long,” Steve admits, grimacing through his smile.

“That’s what she said,” Bucky says automatically, clapping a hand over his mouth, eyes going comically wide. Steve looks horrified for a second before he bursts into a fit of laughter.

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I can’t help it,” Bucky whines seriously. “Fuck, that was so lame!”

“It was pretty lame,” Steve agrees.

Bucky recovers his pride by taking a stab at Steve’s noodles and shoving them into his mouth.

“Wow, any lady would be lucky to have you,” Steve deadpans.

“Fuck you, I’m an independent man. I’ve got another question.”

“Shoot,” Steve says, chasing down the last forkful of noodles with a gulp of water.

Bucky smirks. “Does it turn you on?”

Steve very attractively chokes on his water and has a hard time trying to swallow so he doesn’t spit it out everywhere. The only thing crossing his mind is, _Fuck you, Bucky Barnes_.

“You suck,” Steve announces. “You fucking suck.”

“Oh, you wish I did.”

“Can you stop?!” Steve exclaims, failing to tame his grin through his exasperation.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “This answer won’t satisfy you because no, it does not turn me on to gyrate in front of thirsty strangers who just want to throw money at me so they can watch me take it all off. Like I said, one and a half years. Not exactly sexy after the first couple of times, even for the worst of the exhibitionists. Most of the time it’s just routine all over again and you end up tuning out, thinking about what groceries you’re going to buy with some grubby closeted dude’s cash.”

“Huh.”

“Not as good an answer as you’d think, huh?”

Bucky contemplates it for a moment. “You know if I ever pop in again and see you I’ll just wonder what you’re thinking about and start laughing and then you’ll have to break your act.”

“While I don’t doubt you will do that,” Steve says playfully, “I’m pretty damn good at staying focused. Stubborn, if you want to put it that way.”

Steve gets up and goes to the sink to wash up, Bucky taking a seat at one of the barstools. “So, and you totally don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, why? You’ve got a teaching job, and at the moment you don’t have to pay rent, or at least anything too hefty…”

Steve looks up from the plate he’s rinsing off for a second, registering that Bucky is totally serious (and not mock serious like he’s been the whole night).

“I have debt to pay off. And… I’m not going to live here forever, right? I have a future to build for myself and if I can get some easy money saved up for myself, why not?”

“Future, huh?” Bucky muses, thinking of his own. “What plans do you have?”

Steve tenses up, but only where Bucky can’t notice it. “I don’t really know,” he mutters. He’s fucking twenty-seven trying to make his way through life on his own without a single clue of what he wants to do or how he’s going to get there. It’s the darkness that burns at the back of his brain, tempts him into a dangerous stasis when he thinks too hard about his lack of direction. Steve twitches a little, dragging his thoughts back to the moment. “Yeah, I… I’ll figure it out, I guess.”

Anyone else ( _everyone_ else) would tell him he needs to get his shit together, figure something out and get a real damn job and meet someone, or go back home ( _where is home?_ ). Bucky just looks at him and nods understandingly.

Steve suddenly feels like there’s too little air in the room, his throat dry and tight. He needs to be on his own. He dries his hands and walks out of the kitchen without another word, Bucky trailing cautiously behind.

“Stevie?” Bucky asks quietly. Steve stops but doesn’t turn around, deeming it to be too much work. “You’re doing a good job.”

Steve squeaks without meaning to. “Wh- what do you mean? At what?”

Bucky hesitates, not sure what’s overstepping whatever jagged lines they have set up between them. “Just… Everything. You’re doing good.”

With that, Bucky ducks away into his room.

Steve lies in bed that night staring at the ceiling that he can’t see but knows is there. He feels like he’s being torn in a thousand different directions. It’s been a while since anyone said anything remotely like that, and God knows Steve’s needed it for all that amount of time, if not longer. Steve turns onto his side and curls in on himself into the sheets, blinking into the dark and willing sleep to overtake his thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com) finally for once let me post this early but even if she said no I would've done it because today is a good day and I'm a sucker for you guys.  
>  Slight disclaimer: I have very little life experience. Sorry for inaccuracies of any sort.  
> My text format is that the receiver's name (whoever's POV we're looking at in the moment) is written as their full name while the sender's name is as how the receiver has them in their contacts.

Bucky’s arm usually isn’t quite so bothersome as it’s been recently. If he sleeps on it wrong, he’ll wake up with the ache running from the joint between metal and flesh all the way through his shoulder and spine. Tony’s told him some methods to try and deal with those things if they ever occur on the odd day, and Bucky runs through everything he remembers. It still hurts.

He can’t help the slight panic in his voice when Tony picks up the phone, rushing out, “My arm hurts. And it’s been hurting for a few days and I do what you told me but it doesn’t stop. It hurts.”

“Chill out, kid,” Tony’s voice comes through the line. It’s rough and tired, but definitely awake and buzzed on too much caffeine. Relief floods through Bucky and he sits dejectedly back on his bed, pressing his right thumb against the interlocking metal plates. “Just come over, alright? I’ll be free around one, so if you can make it up…”

“I have work,” Bucky mutters, running his blood and flesh hand through his hair.

“Call in, they’ll get it.”

“I don’t want to,” Bucky whines. He knows he sounds like a child and he should really, really just listen.

Tony sighs and stays silent on the other end. Bucky suspects he’s checking what he can do to accommodate for him, and he can’t help but to feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says quietly.

He hears Tony call for Pepper before picking the phone back up and quickly saying, “Shut up. I told you you don’t have to be sorry, alright? This isn’t your fault. I’m going to get Pepper to cancel and shift some things around. Can you make your way down now?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, voice empty and emotionless. He knows Tony’s going to give him a look for it later, but he can’t help it.

***

Tony took care of Bucky’s arm in no time, and Bucky’s shift today was short. He knows Steve has the night off and wants any distraction to get his head back on track. Clint and Natasha are both busy with their jobs, and he’d hate to bug them over this again.

 **Bucky Barnes:** _u free?_

 **Steve the Stripper:** _Yeah, why?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _do u wanna bang?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _*hang. shit that’s the lamest false typo in the history of typos please believe me when i say that wasn’t on purpose._

**Steve the Stripper:** _Wouldn’t believe you for a second. Sure._

**Bucky Barnes:** _to which one?_

Against his better judgement, Bucky tacks on a smirking emoji to the end of the text, smiling to himself before settling onto his bike.

**Steve the Stripper:** _Both, I guess._

**Bucky Barnes:** _i call bullshit._

Bucky rolls his eyes when he receives a string of angel emojis and tucks his phone into his jacket, starting up the bike.

***

Another perk to living with Steve is that Steve picks up on Bucky’s habits quite quickly, meaning he’s got a pot of coffee freshly brewed for Bucky the second he walks in.

“You’re a saint,” Bucky groans.

“Saints don’t strip,” Steve points out helpfully, making Bucky roll his eyes. “Oh hey,” he calls, following Bucky into his room, “I was on the way home today and I stopped by at the store to get some more junk for my office, and – ”

“Holy shit you’re worse than me with my goddamn memes. You bought more minions, didn’t you? I can’t be seen with you in public, _God!_ You know what? You’re Gru. You’re fuckin’ Gru, aren’t you? Oh my… I’m changing your name in my contacts, it’s official.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, his face drained of all colour. “No, you wouldn’t! You know I hate them as much as you do! I have to! Buck-”

Steve tries to lunge forward and take the phone form Bucky’s hand, but Bucky’s already on the other side of the room, the bed between the two of them. Bucky wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Steve huffs in defeat, immediately backing down.

A few moments later, Bucky proudly shoves his phone screen in Steve’s face. Steve scowls, mumbling a low, “Fuck you,” before stalking out of his room. Bucky laughs at Steve’s expense before shutting his door to change.

“I got something for you,” Steve yells through the door between them. Bucky is a complete sucker for people buying him things, so naturally he rushes and leaves his room halfway through putting his shirt on (which may or may not have been on purpose).

“There was some weird shit at the store and I figured since that’s basically you in a nutshell, I’d get you something for letting me stay here.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bucky asks, staring in disbelief at the flower crown hanging from Steve’s fingers. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Aww, come on, Buck!” Steve pouts, moving closer to place it atop Bucky’s head. Despite his deep-set frown, Bucky doesn’t stop him. “Oh my God, you look adorable,” Steve declares.

“Get this thing off me,” Bucky warns, but Steve just whips his phone out. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Payback,” Steve says with a wink.

Bucky is pretty sure Steve takes a hundred photos, give or take. At first he’s whiny and noncompliant, but when it becomes clear that Steve won’t stop until Bucky has modelled on every piece of furniture in their flat, Bucky starts fucking about with him. He makes a few mock model poses, groping the wall and sticking his ass out, pouting exaggeratedly at the camera. Steve tries his best not to crack up, and is doing surprisingly well given some of the ridiculous postures Bucky fashions.

When Steve insists Bucky moves to the couch, Bucky gets a spark of an idea and tries going at it for real, changing between keeping his lips in a straight line, the natural curve of them looking like a slight pout, and biting on his lower lip. He plays with it even more when Steve nods encouragingly, eyes going dark and sultry. Bucky notices Steve’s slight hesitation the second he starts it and can’t help the twitch of his lips. Good to know he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, gimme more,” Steve mutters, and that’s about as much as Bucky can take, falling off the couch from laughing too hard.

Steve pretends to be offended, saying, “Oh, come on! You started it,” eventually giving in and dissolving into laughter with Bucky.

“The flower crown really suits you. Brings out your eyes and shit,” Steve says once they’ve calmed down. He settles beside Bucky on the floor and starts going through the photos, and before long they’re both laughing all over again. Bucky’s too busy grimacing and giggling to notice the few times when Steve snaps a couple pictures of him grinning like a dork, flower crown askew but still in place.

“I’m sending this one to Sam,” Steve proclaims, hitting the share button on one of the early ones where Bucky is sticking his ass out and staring at the camera with his big baby blues.

“No! No, Steve!” Bucky protests. He tries to grab for the phone, even using his left arm to try and get the upper hand, but he’s too late.

He crosses his arms dramatically and sulks for all of five seconds before Steve caves. “Alright, fine. Here, if I take you out for dinner will you forgive me?”

“Was that your plan all along? To drag me out on a date?”

“It’s not a date, we’re just hanging out. Besides, we gotta eat and I’m getting hungry.”

Bucky scoffs. “You’re always hungry.”

“Touché.”

“Do people really still say that?”

“Surely a meme loving fuck like yourself would know,” Steve says sweetly. Bucky pinches him with the fingers of his left hand, making Steve squeal like a little girl and recoil in horror. “That fucking hurt, dude!”

“Weak. Why go out? We can just do something here.”

Steve shrugs and stands up, sticking out a hand for Bucky. “We’ve both got a night off and I’m tired of cooking and eating in. I need a change of setting.”

Bucky doesn’t think twice before placing his metal hand in Steve’s own and pulling himself up.

***

“Really? Chipotle? That’s your idea of a night out?”

“What?” Steve replies, putting his and Bucky’s order on the table before slipping into the booth. “You’re the one who said Mexican.”

Bucky huffs. “Classy Mexican.”

“I’ll have you know, Chipotle is _very_ classy.”

“Uhuh, but hardly Mexican,” Bucky mumbles, gladly taking a spoonful of his burrito bowl nonetheless.

“Only downside is no breadsticks,” Steve says thoughtfully.

“Oh my God,” Bucky says.

“What?”

“You…” Bucky cuts off, biting hard on his bottom lip to keep from bursting into giggles. “God, I gotta tell you this one. There was one… I’ve had a lot of dates set up for me because my friends insist on it. They think something’s wrong with me, which is kind of rude, but I can’t blame them. As much as I flirt and shit it’s been a while, you know?

“There was one date I went on with a guy,” Bucky starts. “He seemed alright, but right from the start he proved to be a class A douche. We got to talking about sexuality for some reason and turns out he was super biphobic. Being bi myself, I didn’t exactly take well to that. And uh, since I’m fucking trash and spend my free time keeping up to date on memes, I grabbed a handful of breadsticks from the basket in front of us and shoved them into my bag. And then I left.”

Steve does nothing but stare at Bucky, his mouth ajar. “You can’t be serious.”

Bucky cringes. “You can ask Nat. It was her fault I went on that one.”

“Your whole life is a joke,” Steve announces, shaking his head and turning his attention to his food. Bucky can’t find it in him to argue.

“You know what you haven’t told me? Your stripper name.”

Steve blinks. “You know what _you_ haven’t told _me?_ How you lost your arm.”

“Touché.”

“See, you just said it.”

“Only because I’m making fun of you. There’s a difference.”

“Fuck you. Spill.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve and taps the end of his spoon on the table. “Alright, so true story,” Bucky begins.

“Doubt that,” Steve scoffs.

Bucky tilts his head and scowls. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. True story: when I started college I didn’t have a job, and student loans just made me think of too much debt that I couldn’t bear to take on, so… You know how they say something costs an arm and a leg? For me it was the arm…” Bucky sits back, failing to supress his grin. Steve kicks him under the table.

“You don’t get to know my stripper name,” Steve reasons.

“Aw, come on! That one was hilarious! How did you not even laugh?”

“I’ve grown immune to your stupid arm jokes.”

“Wanna bet? Hey, hey, Steve. Steve. Steve. _Steve._ ”

“ _What?_ ”

“I,” Bucky stops, cut off by his own obnoxious snicker, “I had to give someone a _hand_.”

Steve leans over and straight up smacks Bucky upside his head.

“Ow!”

“You’re stupid.”

“And you’re mean,” Bucky says, pouting as if it actually hurt. “Am I allowed to guess?”

“Guess what?”

“Your stripper name,” Bucky clarifies. Steve makes a pained expression but waves his hand in a go ahead motion.

“Batman,” Bucky starts confidently.

“No.”

“Okay… Hot Rod.”

Steve scoffs. “If only.”

“Wait, wait I got a good one. Robin Banks.”

“N-”

“ _No_ , Robin _Dicks_!”

“Bucky I would like to remind you we’re in a public restaurant and if you’re going to keep at this you should probably keep your voi-”

“Amethyst Kelly.”

“Wh… Isn’t that Igg-”

“Patdick Swayze.”

“Oh my God.”

Bucky’s mouth twitches as he tries not to laugh saying the next one. “Biggy Rekt.”

“ _Bucky!_ ” Steve exclaims, absolutely horrified. “You can’t just – ”

“Nah, nah. Chase P. Ness.”

“Fuck,” Steve groans. Bucky would feel bad at how pained Steve looks if it weren’t for how much fun he’s having.

“Got it. Dick E. Normus.”

“Bucky, stop,” Steve pleads. “It’s Johnny Storm, okay?”

“That’s all I – What? No, no, come _on_! Mine are ten times better and you get stuck with a shit name like that? That’s not even sexy!”

“And Biggy Rekt is?” Steve asks incredulously.

“Okay, maybe that one isn’t so…” he trails off.

“None of them are,” Steve says. He still looks exasperated and amused, wetting his lips but unable to stop smiling. “I can’t believe you. Christ, Barnes.”

Bucky grins so wide that he clamps his eyes shut to make it look extra cheesy. Steve’s smile falters.

“You’ve had your shot at embarrassing me this dinner, now it’s my turn.”

Bucky smirks, thinking Steve can’t top Patdick Swayze. “You can give it a shot.”

Steve bites his lip in the most obscene way before leaning forward on the table, whispering lowly, “So you asked me, but I didn’t get a chance to ask you. Did it turn you on, seeing me the other night?”

 _Fuck_. Bucky’s breath is pushed out of his lungs and he scrambles for words to negate Steve, but nothing comes. “Th…”

“So that’s a yes?” Steve grins smugly, sinking back into the seat. “God, that’s a good feeling.”

“I never said that!” Bucky argues feebly.

“Well you didn’t say no,” Steve says in a singsong voice.

“That’s not fair! I – you…”

“Just doing my job, sweetheart,” Steve says with a wink.

Bucky spends the rest of the dinner trying to counter Steve’s assumption, but only ends up sputtering every time he attempts to speak. At this rate, Steve’s sugar sweet smile is going to kill him.

***

It’s weird how close Bucky and Steve are considering how little they actually see each other with their schedules, but whenever they have time together they seem to get more and more comfortable with sharing their personal space.

One evening some weeks later, Steve’s sitting next to Bucky on the couch, scrolling on his phone through some store merchandise. Bucky’s watching some boring rerun on the History Channel, laughing every time the dude from the ‘ALIENS’ meme pops up on screen. Each time he does it, Steve smiles fondly.

“Hey, what do you think of these shoes?” Steve asks leaning towards Bucky a bit, who shuffles closer up against Steve’s side and drops his head onto Steve’s shoulder.

“You could make them work,” Bucky says. “Then again you could make anything work, but yeah. I like ‘em.”

Steve chews on his lip, too aware of Bucky’s weight on his shoulder. He likes it, but his pulse is beginning to pick up too quickly again and he’s getting fidgety.

“Cool. I might get them. My old ones are worn out.”

Bucky hums and watches Steve mess about on his phone for some time, not even aware that he’s tired until he falls asleep with Steve’s warmth.

There’s a tight coil in Steve’s stomach, ready to unhinge itself at any moment, but he wants to hold onto this a second longer. He can’t help the way Bucky makes him feel when they get this close, how the reassuring and understanding glances between the endless teasing make him feel comfortable and at _home_. Steve’s been without one for so damn long and it’s grating at his nerves, tugging at his thoughts no matter what he does.

When Steve notices Bucky’s asleep he decides that, for now, it’s okay.

***

A few days later Bucky’s flipping through a bland novel with his morning coffee in hand when Steve joins him. It’s automatic, the way that Bucky sets his almost empty mug aside and leans into Steve while still reading. Steve has to get to work soon, but they’ve got a few minutes to spare.

“What’s up?” Bucky mumbles tiredly, yawning a bit before nuzzling into Steve’s shoulder.

Steve tenses up beneath him, and Bucky’s eyebrows furrow together. He thinks nothing of it when Steve doesn’t say anything and stays where he is, putting the book down in favour of letting his eyes fall shut. Steve is always so comfy.

“Don’t go to sleep, you have to go work soon.”

“Just ten minutes. Wake me up?”

Bucky smiles victoriously when Steve doesn’t say anything back. He’s just about to settle down a little more comfortably when Steve says, “Bucky? Listen, Buck, we need to talk. About us.”

Bucky sits up, noticing how Steve won’t quite look at him.

“Listen, I lo- I really like what we have going here. It’s awesome, you and me. _You’re_ awesome, _gosh_ , Buck. I haven’t been this close to anyone except for Sam before, and it’s great, really.”

Bucky’s throat is suddenly dry, and his breathing is faltering every time Steve’s eyes flicker up to meet his own. He catches the one quick moment where Steve’s gaze flickers down to his lips.

“I – ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower crown scene creds to the lovely and ever beautiful [Paige](http://fallouchboy.tumblr.com) without whom this fic would probably not exist.  
> Also stripper name banter... India and I had a tough time settling and went through all of these plus more before settling. It was... quite the amusing conversation.  
> And shoutout to my buddy [Johnny](http://johnnychasep.tumblr.com) whose name I may or may not have marred in this fic. I did let him know as soon as I chose to put it in, however, so I think he's cool with it??? Wonderful.  
> To our readers, I love u guys very muchly and your support makes my heart so so warm and I cannot tell you how much each comment, bookmark, subscription and all makes me feel. Here's to you folks. See you at our usual on Friday!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I could've been more cruel and made you wait another week to see how this shitstorm goes.  
> Co-author [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com)  
> Also I've been meaning to apologize for how short my chapters are?? It helps me keep a good pace in terms of writing tho so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Steve rubs his hands over his face and looks straight at Bucky, then sighs and looks away. “I like you, Bucky. I do, and you deserve to know the truth, but I can’t do this.”

Bucky blinks. He did hear right, yeah?

“I – I’ve done this before, and…”

“With Sam?” Bucky asks automatically, immediately clamping his mouth shut.

“No, God, no!” Steve says quickly. “Sam’s just my best friend and all. We’re close but. You and I are close too, but you’re not exactly in the same circle as Sam. It was a girl. Her name was Peggy.”

Bucky’s mind clicks. “Wait, so you’re…”

“Bi,” Steve finishes with an impish grin. “Yeah.”

Bucky tries for a cautious smile. “Sweet.”

“Yeah, you’d think, huh?”

Bucky’s been trying to ignore the twisting of his stomach, the way his throat is constricting any words that try to leave it, forcing him to speak in segments. “What do you mean?”

Steve sighs, looking painfully exhausted when he looks up. Bucky tries not to flinch. “Buck, I can’t… I’ve tried this before. Things between Peggy and I didn’t work out because of my night job that I refused to fucking give up and… We just. We wanted different things, and it all got to be too much.”

_But maybe it could be different for us_ , Bucky thinks foolishly, wanting to argue for something he knows he can’t have. For once, he keeps his mouth shut.

“I really like what we have, and I don’t want it to change at all. I can work with this, but if I try anything more… I need to figure things out for myself before I drag someone down with me. And – Gosh if I read any of this wrong and it’s all one sided then that’s fine – this is just super embarrassing – but it’s been bugging me and I’m just trying to keep us both in the clear here.” Steve stops, realizing Bucky hasn’t said much.

Bucky’s fine, really. He can’t say he isn’t upset at the lack of the prospect of their friendship being anything more, but it’s Steve. He’s not going to fight him on this if this is what Steve wants.

“Yeah,” Bucky finally says. “Yeah, you don’t have to explain yourself any more. I get it.”

“Okay,” Steve mutters. “Thank you. And… I’m sorry.”

Bucky frowns and makes a noise of disapproval. “You don’t have to be.”

Steve nods, but he won’t look at Bucky anymore. He looks out of it, and Bucky wants nothing more than to reach out and smooth the crease between Steve’s brows. Steve doesn’t want anything to change, but if that’s the case, Bucky will have to make sure they don’t get stuck in this awkward dance of everything-we-do-and-say-is-platonic-and-I-can’t-touch-you-at-all-without-it-being-weird.

“Since we’re all serious and coming clean here, I should probably tell you something too,” Bucky says tentatively. His lips twitch at the adorable look of confusion on Steve’s face, but he quickly forces the smile down. “It’s about time you know the truth about my arm.”

“I swear if this is another fucking joke I will have your head on a fucking dinner platter,” Steve warns, a small smile on his lips nonetheless. It coaxes a warm laugh out of Bucky, short and sweet.

“No, no, hey. Just hear me out, alright?”

Steve considers it for a moment, and then relaxes into the sofa, watching Bucky seriously. “Alright.”

“Alright. So one time I was fisting this girl – ”

“Bucky!” Steve yells, shoving him off the couch. Bucky yelps, but Steve harbours no regret. He’s red in the face at the idea of it, trying to get the image out of his head. “ _Stop_! Fuck, that’s the worst one yet! Get outta here!”

“But it’s my place,” Bucky argues through his laughter.

“I don’t care, go to work!”

“I don’t have work today, just class later on.”

“I don’t give a damn!” Steve retorts, unable to fend off the smile Bucky’s forcing from him. “Get your ass out of here!”

“Aww, you don’t mean that Stevie!”

Steve scoffs, getting off the couch and gently kicking Bucky back down so he’s lying flat on the floor. “You know what, fine. I gotta go anyway or I’ll be late.” He’s still grinning even as he makes his way to the door with his things in hand, leaving Bucky to stare wistfully at the ass that could have been.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky calls after him, not really meaning it. He laughs again. It’s okay. They’re okay, because Steve is smiling again and he looks alright with this. Even if it’s not entirely what Bucky wants it’s good enough, because Steve is happy, and that’s good. That’s good.

“Fisting,” Steve mutters to himself just before he leaves. Bucky smiles half-heartedly, though it quickly withers away when the turn of the lock echoes through the empty apartment.

Just like that, Steve, the bane of Bucky’s existence, has Bucky convinced that his ultimate downfall has occurred at twenty-seven years old.

***

When two destructive forces combine, never expect anything but a larger chaotic mess. In hindsight, Bucky and Steve living together may be just that, but more often than not, it’s outsiders who fall victim to their oddities.

It’s some time on a Saturday night after Steve has called in a pizza when Bucky says, “Hey, I’m bored. Let’s prank the delivery guy.”

Steve pauses, calculating the seriousness of Bucky’s suggestion. “What do you have in mind?”

Bucky shrugs, which makes Steve roll his eyes and settle back into the couch, scribbling into a new notebook. They’ve got time to think of something. In the meantime, Bucky goes to his room and crams in a few pages of his readings for class.

The next time Steve sees Bucky, he’s tumbling out of his room and clutching his stomach with laughter. “Dude,” Bucky wheezes, wiping the corners of his eyes. “Dude, what if you were… _old_.”

“You’re crazy,” Steve decides, watching Bucky double over. He doesn’t get what’s so funny about it, but whatever floats Bucky’s boat…

“But hey, get this: Nat told me we’re like an old married couple, and the eight ball agreed, so why not run with it?”

“You – you asked the magic eight ball.”

Bucky nods proudly before he catches sight of Steve’s expression of disbelief. “I told you I’m indecisive!” Bucky says defensively.

Steve blinks. “Bucky,” he says slowly, “Indecisiveness does not play into you deciding whether or not we are alike to an old married couple.”

Bucky starts to retort, but comes up empty-handed. “So is that a yes or a no?”

Steve shrugs. “Sure.”

***

Steve is wrapped up in a navy blanket, his head covered as he hunches over. He’s going to hate himself for the poor posture later, and he knows this lame, _lame_ attempt at a prank is not worth it, but heck. Who ever said Steve was sensible?

He opens the door to a delivery boy holding a pizza. “That’ll be $24.57,” he says, handing over the box. Steve doesn’t take it, instead scrutinizing him under his glare in the way that stereotypical evil old people do on TV.

“Back when I was a young boy,” Steve drawls, trying to make his deep, smooth voice the exact opposite (and failing miserably), “this kind of a meal would be ten times cheaper.”

“Uhh,” the delivery boy utters.

“You know, son, seventy years ago I lost my dear husband Bucky.”

Just then, Bucky, clad in the same clothes as before but attempting an equally ridiculous withered voice, sticks his head out of his room and yells, “QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD!”

Steve sighs wistfully, nodding solemnly to himself. “Sometimes I can still hear his voice.”

The delivery boy stares, mouth agape, but then lets out a short laugh. “Are you serious? This is a joke, right?”

Steve shoots the boy the best glare he can muster and bites, “These young ‘uns. Ain’t got an ounce of respect, I tell ya.”

“… $24.57.”

Steve dramatically rolls his eyes and tugs out his wallet, handing over some cash and a few coins to cover the cost.

“Enjoy your pizza, sir. I… I’m sorry about your husband.”

“STEVE, TELL HIM I AM NOT DEAD!” Bucky calls again. The delivery boy glances over Steve’s shoulder and catches sight of Bucky, then glances back to Steve. He hands over the box, and this time Steve takes it before letting the poor boy run off.

“Think we did good?” Bucky asks when he walks up to Steve who’s finally straightening up.

Steve frowns, stretching until he hears a satisfying crack. “I think we can do better.”

***

Sarah’s on shift when Steve visits Nordstrom for the first time, and he happens to walk in just as she’s sorting out a splay of watches.

“Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?” she asks as per usual, not noticing how the customer’s lips quirk up into a smile at the formality as she fiddles around with a watch that isn’t sitting quite right on its little stage.

“No thank you, I’m just browsing,” he replies politely, and Sarah smiles and nods, turning back to the display when he adds, “But I don’t suppose you could help me find someone who works here?”

“Of course! Who are you looking for?”

“Bucky, although he might go by James here,” he says thoughtfully.

She makes the mistake of taking a proper look at him for the first time and suddenly stumbles all over her words. “Y- uh, yeah, he’s… Bucky’s just on break he’ll be back in a,” she pauses, checking her watch, “A minute or so, actually. Good timing.”

Sarah wonders who knows her co-worker well enough to address him by his nickname. He’s had some friends drop by before, but none that look quite like this, and none that she didn’t recognize. He’s tall and wide at the shoulders, clad in a brown leather jacket that fits him all too well. His lips are insultingly pink, and his face – as much as Sarah hates the phrase – seems chiselled to perfection.

She only notices she’s staring when he clears his throat and extends a hand across to her.

“Oh,” she mutters, cringing outwardly at her intelligent choice of words as she shakes his hand.

“I’m Steve, Bucky’s new roommate.”

Sarah supplies her own name, followed by an uncomfortable squeak, knowing her cheeks are flushing red, suddenly becoming all too aware of the fitting of her black dress.

“Ah, yeah. Bucky’s told me about you!”

As quickly as her blush arose, Sarah’s face drains of all colour. “Oh God. What did he say?”

Steve laughs warmly, the sound making Sarah’s stomach flip involuntarily. She reaches for the hair that’s fallen over her shoulder and tucks it back some, although the action proves to be futile when she tries to focus back on the watches, her hair falling back down to frame her face.

“Good things, I promise,” Steve assures. “Although he also mentioned a lot of the weird dates you guys have set him up on.”

“Like the one who stared at him for fourteen minutes without saying a word to him?”

“You know, he never told me that one.”

Sarah looks up with a smile, though it falters when Steve smiles back, _damn it_. “Really? That’s my favourite one.”

“I thought the one where the date kissed his metal arm in the middle of winter and got her lips stuck was pretty cute,” Steve muses.

Sarah’s smile becomes forced, so she looks away again. She would give _anything_ to be out of this situation right now. God knows she’s probably coming across the exact opposite of how she wants to.

“So how about you?” Steve asks, and Sarah can _swear_ there’s a hint of flirtation in his tone.

“Huh?” she squeaks.

“Do you go on as many adventurous dates as Buck?” Steve asks, practically purring with the way the words fall off his tongue. He’s partly leaning on the glass of the display case, watching Sarah with an amused gaze, and it’s all Sarah can do to not blurt something stupid right at his face.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, returning from his break and joining a very red-in-the-face Sarah.

“Bucky? Is that you? Gosh, you look so _different_ all dressed up; I never would have guessed it’s you!” Steve exclaims, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bucky rolls his eyes, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. It’s not the most comfortable attire, but at least he knows he works it. “Stop being a jackass, Steve. I see you’ve met Sarah.”

“This is… This is the guy isn’t it?” Sarah utters, speaking more to herself than anyone else.

“Yeah, I have,” Steve says, throwing yet another disarming smile at Sarah. “She’s wonderful.”

Sarah blinks a few times, then announces, “I’m just gonna… I have something to do… Over there….”

“You scared her off, Steve,” Bucky says disappointedly.

“I did not! I was nothing but a kind, sweet gentleman!”

Bucky scoffs, grabbing a spray bottle and cloth from behind the display and shoving Steve off so he can wipe the glass where there are now smudges. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“I would never be anything but that except to you. Besides, she was cute. I wouldn’t want to make her terrified of me.”

Bucky smirks at the glass, leaning in close to make sure it’s completely spotless. “You should know she gets terribly nervous when it comes to flirting with someone like you; isn’t nearly quite as smooth as me.”

“Oh, because you’re smooth,” Steve comments dryly.

“Hey, you’ve seen some of my best lines.”

“What, like ‘Will you marry me?’ If that’s your definition of smooth…” Steve trails off, hopping away from the counter when Bucky tries to snap the cloth at him.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Bucky asks, turning his back to Steve for a second. Steve gladly takes the opportunity to admire the fitting of Bucky’s attire, all the way down to the stretch of fabric that accentuates his ass. His eyes snap up when Bucky turns around, hoping he didn’t notice but knowing he did when he raises an eyebrow at Steve, a devious smile curling on his lips.

“I had an early finish today,” Steve says quickly, hoping to avoid any verbal acknowledgement of his wandering eyes. “Thought I’d drop by and see what you’re like in your natural environment.”

Bucky laughs at that, mumbling, “Natural environment,” before walking along behind the jewellery case and making sure things are in check. He ignores the warmth in his stomach over the idea that Steve stopped by on his way home to see him. It’s nothing; they’ve established that.

Just as Steve’s about to say something, a young man approaches the far end of the displays where they keep rings.

“I have to,” Bucky starts apologetically.

“Please, go ahead,” Steve says. He’d like to watch Bucky at work, anyway.

It gets kind of boring watching Bucky take out things from the case to show the man, and at some point Steve pulls out his phone to kill some time.

He notices Sarah walking by and looks up, smiling politely. “Hey!” Steve is very confused when she makes a strangled noise and rushes away.

Nevertheless, Steve brushes it off with a shrug and tucks his phone back into his jacket, just in time to hear Bucky sweet-talking the customer. His voice is low and flirtatious – Steve would know – and everything about his body language is suggestive.

Steve watches with amazement as Bucky works his way through the sale, using provocative smiles and a voracious gaze to reduce the poor guy to a blubbering mess; putty in his hands.

When the customer leaves, box in hand and short a few thousand dollars, Bucky struts proudly back to Steve.

Steve could think of a million things to say, like, “ _That’s_ how you earn the best commission?” or, “Didn’t that guy say he was buying an _engagement_ ring for his girlfriend?”

Instead what comes out is, “Is that how you lost the arm?”

Bucky’s responding smile is blindingly bright, and that’s how Steve knows he’s said the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delivery scene inspired by [this post](http://peelace.co.vu/post/125980847436/steve-seventy-years-ago-i-lost-my-dear-husband)  
> If you have a moment please message [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com) and let her know how you're enjoying the fic as well as commenting below that'd be super cool because she's been a massive part of the planning process and encouraging me to write it all out n you guys owe her for the pace I'm working at. If not for her I'd still be deciding what to do with their jobs.  
> Love to you all x  
> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to my partner in crime [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com).  
> A few notes I want to share with you: India and I are in the process of organizing a playlist for the fic and I'm very excited about that!!! Also, I'm pretty much done with mapping out the whole fic and the plan document is 12k words. If anyone is interested in seeing it, just comment below and once we've posted all the chapters I'll publish it :-)  
> I'm currently maybe halfway through the fic at 50k+ words and I promise that as soon as I complete my writing I'll post twice a week or something. Love you guys.

Bucky hates the phrase waking up on the wrong side of the bed as a synonym for waking up to a pissy day. He’s had plenty of times getting up out of bed on the exact same side every damn day and sometimes those days are good, sometimes they’re bad. Some days are completely neutral or somewhere in between. After more than ten thousand days of waking up, Bucky thinks he has enough experience to say that it doesn’t do shit for your mood to wake up on one side or the other of your bed.

Every day the weight in his chest gets heavier and he forces it down, pastes on a smile and forgets. Some days it’s easier than others to ignore the problem that glares obnoxiously back at him in his reflection each time he brushes his teeth in the morning. Today, he takes one look at his left arm and loathes everything.

Maybe it wasn’t which side of the bed more than the odd feeling he woke up with, tight in all the wrong places, left with fragmented memories of a hazy dream that had him tossing at night with discomfort.

It doesn’t help that he has an opening shift and has to be there around nine when he had difficulty falling asleep last night.

Bucky grudgingly goes through his morning routine and looks with hollow eyes at the food in their fridge. He decides against eating anything, figuring he’ll get a lunch in and that he’s not really all that hungry right now. Steve’s already left for work since he has a morning class to teach, and there is no one to tell Bucky he has to eat something.

With that, Bucky throws on a jacket, a pair of gloves, slings his backpack over one shoulder, and leaves the place he considers home.

***

It’s not that bad a day, Bucky knows it. He’s had so much worse; customers who try to bargain when he can’t do anything without getting fired, customers who won’t stop yelling at him because it’s apparently his fault they can’t fit into the 2 and have to settle for a 4 instead. That, and much, much worse.

It’s pretty slow and Bucky doesn’t have to talk to many people, and even Sarah gives him his space.

Still, maybe if it were busier Bucky wouldn’t be so deep in his own melancholy thoughts that cause him to shuffle nervously every two minutes.

Bucky hates himself some days (who doesn’t?), but he also hates getting down on himself like this, which basically snowballs into an infinite cycle of self-hatred. His mind is on his arm (or lack thereof) and everything he’s ever failed to do as a son, a brother, and just for himself. It’s stupid, he knows, but Bucky doesn’t get to choose which days are good and which are bad.

Unfortunately, a workplace is no place for a bad day, so Bucky has to put on a false front for the few customers that bustle in from the cold. His usual flirtatious edge is lost in exchange for a more mechanical – and probably more professional – suit. The only problem with that is that it’s not fun; it doesn’t engage Bucky because he can do it on autopilot and therefore he’s still a miserable sap on the inside.

People at work notice Bucky’s metal arm all the time – or at least his hand, since the arm is more often than not covered by a shirt or jacket sleeve – but it’s never more than a sympathetic glance that rubs him the wrong way, or a look of curiosity. Sometimes he gets the butt end of things; a stray comment here, one look and a sneer.

It’s not really the poor lady’s fault when she gives him a look of pity (although Bucky would very much argue that it is) and starts off.

“Oh, son, I know how hard that is.” Bucky stares at her without expression. She has all her limbs in place. Sure she does.

“It’s not that bad,” he replies defensively. He knows what it’s like living like this; she doesn’t. It’s as simple as that. Maybe he’s attempting to keep himself on top of his own pile of self-pity, but it aggravates him that people think it’s something it’s not.

The lady gives a sad smile that makes his skin crawl. “You don’t have to lie, son. My husband’s friend served and did two tours. Pour soul lost a leg among everything else war takes,” she carries on. Bucky tunes her out, trying to remain professional.

He wants to grab something in his left hand and feel the weight of it as it crumbles under his strength, that’s how annoyed he is right now. He knows that if he tries to listen, or even to explain, it will only make it worse. Bucky can’t afford to lose his job right now, but he can feel the tingle in his spine, the rush of adrenaline and purely childish anger he used to feel when he was young and reckless.

“Sarah?” Bucky calls, catching sight of her across the floor. The lady cuts off her rambling with a startled noise. “Sarah would you mind taking care of this customer? I just remembered I have something really important and time-sensitive to call in and get sorted.”

It’s an amalgamation of too many feelings he doesn’t want to deal with, too many old emotions being dug up and brought to the forefront of his brain that are too heavy for a work environment, and Bucky knows he shouldn’t be doing this but he doesn’t know what else to _do_.

Sarah takes one look at Bucky, registering the exhaustion in his eyes. She doesn’t think twice before nodding and smiling politely at the lady who is no doubt staring holes into Bucky’s back. Thank God for Sarah.

Bucky makes his way through the departments and ducks into the staff toilets, flipping a lid down and sitting there for a while. Breathing doesn’t come easy, so he tries his best to time it, but each time he stutters or his chest constricts. In attempt to alleviate some of the focus from his breathing, Bucky drops his head into his hands, gripping and tugging helplessly at his hair. He doesn’t care if it looks like a mess.

The woman didn't say anything wrong; it was just that she pretended like she knew Bucky’s story and she _didn’t_. Hardly anyone did. He’s angry that he couldn’t keep it together and brush it off with a tight smile.

 _It’s not the same_.

The phrase repeats itself in Bucky’s head until it’s all he can feel. It’s not the same. People go into war and they know what they’re signing up for. They know there are slight chances of returning, and that if they do it won’t ever be the same, be it with or without their entire body. They sign up to sacrifice that because they’re brave, and remembering it all only reminds Bucky how much of a coward he is. He never asked for this.

Bucky never asked for this.

***

Sarah doesn’t expect to see Steve pop in again after the first time, but it just so happens he turns up when Bucky shot off.

“Sarah, right?” Steve asks, using that charming smile that makes her tongue twist over on itself. Instead of attempting to reply, she nods with a shy smile. “Good to see you. Is Bucky in? I wanted to drop by and say hi before I head home.”

Sarah frowns slightly at the recollection of Bucky’s tense body language. “He went on break just now, but I’m not sure where. Is everything okay? He seemed a little off.”

Steve’s jaw sets, concern etching itself onto his expression. He doesn’t know what’s overstepping in the friendship they have, and he’s not dealt with Bucky being anything but dorky before. Contemplating the situation, Steve decides to leave it be for now. He’ll figure out a way to talk to him, or if he can’t do that, then, well. He’ll figure it out.

“Uh, just do me a favour and don’t tell him I dropped by, yeah?” Steve asks. Sarah considers how bad it would be for her to withhold the truth, but she gets it.

“Sure thing. Just make sure he’s alright. He can get in a mood sometimes and closes up. Won’t say a word.”

Steve nods, looking like he’s still lost in thought as he leaves. Sarah likes to think she’s dignified enough to not watch his ass as he turns and walks off, but even she knows that’s a lie.

***

Bucky slams the door shut behind him. It took him twenty minutes to calm down at work today, and in his books that’s twenty minutes too long. Thankfully Steve isn’t home since he has a night shift today, so the next time he sees him Bucky should be back to his normal self.

In hopes of easing the stress Bucky takes a hot shower and stays in longer than he should, supposing he deserves it. He knows he ought to text Clint, Natasha, or even Tony, but he doesn’t. He can manage on his own.

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles when his stomach growls. _Oh_ meaning he hasn’t eaten all day and didn’t notice until now.

He heads into the kitchen and spots a pot on the cooker, and a quick check tells him there’s a fresh batch of homemade spaghetti and meatballs. Just the smell of it makes Bucky sigh in relief. He really wishes he could kiss Steve, if only to thank him for this. Instead of the usual sticky with a smiley face, there’s a page that looks like it’s been torn out of one of Steve’s notebooks that reads:

_Enjoy dinner, you meatball! Had to ask Sam for a special recipe so you better appreciate it (which means don’t tell me it tastes like ass). P.S. Check the freezer._

_\-- Stevie_

The rest of the page is occupied by a quick, but surprisingly skilled sketch of Bucky looking into the open freezer with a look of exaggerated shock and excitement on his face. It’s goofy and sweet, and Bucky can’t help but to smile at the paper. For some reason, it makes all the difference in the world that it’s not a smiley face like every other night when he comes home, and Bucky’s shoulders ease up with each breath. He tucks the paper into his bedside drawer where he’s got all the previous smiley face notes stacked up in the back corner.

He opens the freezer, chuckling to himself at the idea that he could ever react to whatever’s there the way that Steve has drawn out in the cartoon. Then again, maybe Steve was onto something because Bucky’s jaw goes slack when he sees their freezer stocked to the brim with tubs of Talenti gelato.

Yeah, Bucky really wishes he could kiss Steve.

***

Steve comes home at four and checks the freezer, hoping to see that Bucky’s eaten some of the gelato he bought for him. His lips quirk up into a smile when he catches sight of a neon yellow sticky note on the caramel cookie crunch tub that’s still half full.

 _Left some for you. Thank you. :)_ _xBuck_

Steve grins like a dork and takes the tub, grabbing a spoon from the silverware drawer before settling into the couch. For the first time, Steve doesn’t even care that he’s sweaty and gross from other peoples’ sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu)  
> Find India on [tumblr](http://legpace.tumblr.com)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com) will soon get an AO3 so I can properly credit her as my co-author, and for those of you unclear on what she's done for us she doesn't write the fic that's totally my job but she's helped me put together the entire plot scene by scene and help me decide so many things and puts her whole heart into it. That being said she's in denial about shipping stucky.... I know right?  
>  We're also both wondering how minions became such an integral part of the plot we're torturing ourselves and there's nothing we can do about it. God save us all.  
> Also funnily enough this fic started with an onion ring but guess what I've never had one!!! And India is very passionate about it and yelled at me when I told her that.  
> Anyway: here is part 10 of what will be a stupidly long fic. Hola.

It’s only a matter of time before Bucky caves to Nat’s insistent texts that he goes on another date some time soon. He didn't really notice that he stopped going on them until Steve came along before Natasha commented backhandedly, and Bucky’s trying to make sure that Steve isn’t the reason he’s passing up her offers. After all, Bucky and Steve have established it: just friends. Besides, the blind dates are kind of fun.

That being said, Bucky isn’t exactly looking forward to this one. Apparently some woman Natasha met at Tony’s insisted she set her daughter up with someone, and Bucky can’t say he’s expecting much out of that. Nevertheless, Bucky agreed and he has to get ready to go over to the girl’s place.

He’s almost done peeling out of a new suit he testing the fitting of for work when the front door shuts, announcing Steve’s return.

“Hey, Buck! What are your plans for tonight? I was craving some Chi-”

Steve stops in Bucky’s doorway, staring openly at Bucky who is lacking trousers and – if it weren’t for the damn button at the cuff that won’t come undone – almost shirtless.

“Got a date tonight, did you forget?” Bucky mutters, scrunching his eyebrows together in concentration as he fiddles awkwardly. The muscles beneath his skin move as he struggles, and Steve is having a really difficult time keeping his eyes above Bucky’s neck. “Also dude, the door was shut. Don’t you knock?”

Steve swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Damn it. Why does this have to happen?

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky hisses, still fiddling and using every ounce of will power not to rip the damn cuff off. “You could give me a hand, you know,” Bucky says, somehow unaware of how strikingly undressed he is.

Steve whines ever so slightly when he sees a thin strip of hair running down his navel into his boxers, hips accentuated by his v lines that are just prominent enough to make Steve want to drool.

Because the universe hates him, Bucky hears Steve and looks up, catching the way Steve’s eyes snap up guiltily. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer,” he says coyly.

Bucky’s smirk grows when he sees that he made Steve the Stripper blush. Every time he does it, Bucky counts it as a little victory.

Steve ducks his head and mumbles an apology before dashing out of the room, blush spreading to his neck when he hears Bucky’s warm, unabashed laughter. It’s a nice sound.

***

Bucky does not expect his date to be an intense cat lady, and he does not expect to spend the night in her apartment playing with a hoard of new little fuzzy kittens that are only a few days old, but that’s what happens.

The girl herself isn’t that bad and clarifies that her mom kind of forced her into this when she isn’t exactly into the whole dating and having relationships thing. Bucky nods understandingly when she tells him this, and there’s an unspoken mutual decision that they’re both just there to hang out.

They order in pizza (which, to be honest, Bucky is kind of sick of, but he can’t say no) and while waiting for it to come in, both of them end up on their backs while the litter crawl their ways across their bodies. Bucky is enamoured with the little creatures.

“I’m kind of tempted to take one home with me,” Bucky comments on his way out. The girl is more than happy to give one up, but Bucky kindly declines and says that if he changes his mind later on she’ll be the first one he sees to pick up a little furball.

***

Bucky quickly learns that he loves nothing more than being able to make Steve go into a full body laugh. It’s the dorkiest thing, the way throws his head back and lets out an oddly higher pitched laugh than one might expect of him. The few times Bucky’s witnessed it he’s noticed Steve tends to get a little handsy with himself, but it’s all harmless, so Bucky doesn’t mention it. Regardless, Steve looks utterly ridiculous, and Bucky can’t get enough.

The only issue Bucky has right now is trying to figure out what’s so damn funny about the date with friendly aromantic cat lady.

“Please, Mr. Rogers, would you kindly educate me as to what you find so hilarious?”

Steve tries to be serious, but he bursts out into another short round of laughter and has to wipe the corners of his eyes before he says anything.

“You spent the whole date surrounded by pussies,” Steve explains, snickering a little before breaking back into a full laugh.

Bucky’s jaw falls open, trying to make sure he heard right. “Oh my God,” he whispers, partly horrified at the image. Too much, _way_ too much. He feels the blush creep its way up his neck, and it only functions to make Steve giggle even more. Bucky has no idea what to do except beat Steve down with a pillow until he stops laughing.

“I hate you, Steve!”

“Aww,” Steve says, cut off as he flinches to protect himself from another pillow assault. “You know that’s not true!”

The truth in that statement only makes Bucky more flustered than he needs to be right now, so he continues battering Steve with the pillow until they’re both laughing softly, Steve just accepting the light throws.

“We’re stupid,” Bucky muses, helping Steve to sit back upright. Steve hums and curls up to Bucky, hoping it’s not weird that he wants to stay close for a minute. Bucky’s relieved for it. “By the way, you totally ruined those kittens for me. They were so damn adorable. You should have seen them, Stevie,” he says wistfully, voice quiet so that if there were anyone else there they wouldn’t be able to hear unless they were as close as Steve is right now. “Get me one for my birthday.”

“When is it?”

“March 10th.”

Steve shoots up and gapes at Bucky. He looks offended. “That’s next week! How the fuck am I supposed to get you something in time!”

“Oh please, a week is plenty of time,” Bucky says, waving it off. He didn't mean it, really. Besides, most birthdays he’d rather drink away sour memories than try to spend it being cheerful. “And you don’t have to, I was just joking.”

“Birthdays are not jokes,” Steve says decidedly. Bucky shrugs, letting Steve lean back into him. He can almost hear Steve’s mind at work, what with the fiddling of his hands and the few short mumbles he lets out. Bucky smiles lazily and smooths Steve’s hair down. Steve is silly.

***

Bucky’s birthday rolls around faster than either of them realize, and unfortunately it lands on a weekday. Steve insists he’ll be back in the evening and isn’t working tonight, but Bucky just dismisses it whilst shoving him out the door, making sure he isn’t late. Besides, Steve kind of compensated by throwing himself on top of Bucky first thing in the morning and yelling, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Bucky, poor Bucky who has his terrible habit of sleeping late, did not appreciate it much. Steve’s lucky he’s Steve, because if it were Clint or Tony he wouldn’t have hesitated to clout them for disturbing his beauty sleep.

Bucky’s got the whole day off – save for the couple of classes he has to attend later – and is powerless to decline when Natasha and Clint show up at his door to drag him out.

“But I wanna stay in bed!” Bucky whines, reluctantly letting them into his apartment. He trudges back to his bed and falls face first onto it, burrowing under his covers.

“You’re getting out of the house, James,” Nat says, tone unamused. She rarely takes any of Bucky’s bullshit.

“I had to force Rhodey to cover my shift today just so I had the day off,” Clint adds helpfully. “So if you don’t drag your ass out of there and get ready, don’t think we won’t make you.”

Bucky whips his head out from under the covers and narrows his eyes at Clint. “You don’t have the balls.”

Clint doesn’t rile up at Bucky’s lame attempt at an insult, looking scarily thoughtful before saying, “You know what? I think Nat and I will go fuck on your couch in the meantime.”

Even though Bucky knows Clint wouldn’t do that – and Natasha wouldn’t let him – Bucky scowls and gets out of bed. He’d rather not risk it, thank you.

***

 **Manic Mechanic:** _Happy birthday Buck! If you want I can take you out to that place tonight ;) Get that birthday sex._

 **Bucky Barnes:** _thanks but no thanks tony. got class and then im spending the night in with steve._

 **Manic Mechanic:** _Oh, right. Almost forgot you have the birthday sex bit covered._

 **Bucky Barnes:** _i wish haha. tfw no gf/bf_

 **Manic Mechanic:** _Not getting any action from that boy? What’s the point in having him live in with you???_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _not that. you gonna come by today?_

 **Manic Mechanic:** _Let me know what your plans are._

Bucky takes it to mean yes from tony and makes a note in the back of his mind to reply when he knows exactly what Clint and Natasha expect to do with him.

***

“Where are we even going?” Bucky groans.

“Lunch,” Natasha replies simply, making sure there aren’t any rogue pedestrians in the way before turning right.

Bucky can tell they’re headed in the general direction of the Brooklyn area, though he can’t figure out why. He’s not been here since his parents died, at least not unless he’s needed to. Not knowing what to make of it, Bucky sits back and watches the city pass by, his eyes slowly drifting shut with the constant motion.

He wakes up when they pull to a stop, and it takes him all of fifteen seconds to wake up and realize they’re in the parking lot of the best pizza place in Brooklyn; the place where his parents used to take him and Rebecca once a month, or twice if there was a special occasion.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Clint jokes, getting out the car and opening Bucky’s door. Still weighed down from the pull of sleep, Bucky reluctantly exits the vehicle and follows his friends inside.

The second he steps inside, he’s tackled into a hug, having to reach for the doorframe to keep his footing.

“Happy birthday, Buck.”

He doesn’t have to look down to know it’s his sister, immediately wrapping his arms around her and returning the embrace. _God_ it’s been long. They text from time to time, always keep in touch, but she’s been busy with her boyfriend and work, and Bucky’s never wanted to intrude on her life. They’re the kind of kids that can stay without each other because they’re not too clingy, knowing that if they spend too much time together they’ll hate one another; but even so whenever they get these little moments Bucky makes sure to keep check of every single one.

“Hey, Bec,” he whispers, squeezing her a little as he feels his chest expand with gratitude. It’s getting hard to breathe with how impossibly tight she’s holding him, but Bucky doesn’t mind.

When she pulls back and sniffles, no one bothers to acknowledge it.

“Missed you, stupid,” she mumbles, throwing a weak punch at him. Bucky rolls his eyes and throws his arm across her shoulders, pulling her into him as they make their way to the table.

“How have you been, you lil germ?” Bucky asks fondly. As much as he wants to let her live her own life without interruptions from her big brother, Bucky can’t avoid the pang of regret he feels for not being in her life more. He feels a little better, though, when they’re all seated and she starts filling him in on all the details.

“So,” Becca starts, in a tone that is all too innocent, “Who’s this _Steve_ guy these two have been telling me about?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at her from across the table. “You know about Steve. I’ve told you about him. I wouldn’t just have someone move in without telling you your room is taken.”

“True, but whenever I ask you about him or ask for a picture you always divert the conversation. What’s _that_ about?”

Bucky glares at Clint, who is openly smirking and sharing smug looks with Natasha. “Nothing. He’s just a friend.”

“Just a _friend_? Oh boy, Bucky… Are you going to get _laid_ tonight?”

Bucky sputters, failing horribly at holding down the red that rises to his cheeks. “No! What the fuck?! Did Clint tell you some bullshit? Man, he’s meant to be in his grave right now.”

Rebecca smiles knowingly. “Oh, sure, yeah I believe you. Not like I know my brother super well, right?”

“Trust me,” Bucky sighs, “I would love to be able to answer affirmatively, but I’m not getting anything more than a hug from Steve, if even that.” The moment the words pass his lips, Bucky realizes he and Steve haven’t really hugged before.

Thankfully before the conversation can get any further a waiter comes around and asks for their order of drinks, leaving the menus on the table for them.

Not long after that, Tony pops in having been told by Bucky that they stopped here.

“No need to stand, my friends, it is just I, Tony Stark, who saved Bucky’s life,” Tony calls upon entering, making everyone roll their eyes at him. “Now, where’s the birthday boy?”

Bucky grudgingly lifts a hand in the air so Tony spots them at their table, although with Natasha’s hair they’re quite hard to miss.

“Happy birthday baby boy,” Tony purrs, and Bucky doesn’t know what’s a genuine attempt to hit on him anymore when it comes from Tony. He slips in beside Bucky and places a gift bag in his lap. “Papa got you some gifts.”

“Please stop,” Clint groans. He’s spent enough time around Stark to know what he’s like, but that doesn’t mean the dynamic him and Bucky have make Clint any less queasy.

Natasha supresses a vicious smile aimed at Clint before saying, “No, please continue. I enjoy seeing bird boy squirm.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Clint asks, expression forlorn. “I kick one guy off the range for shooting at a bird and this is what I get,” he explains to Bucky. Clint’s pout is melting off his face.

“Get over your bird complex, Barton,” Tony says, kicking him under the table. Clint glares at Tony. “It’s present time.”

Since it’s in his lap, Bucky starts with Tony’s gift. “Another suit? Man if I didn’t already own all my co-workers with the amount I make in commission for flirting with my customers, my boss would love me for all this shit you dump on me.”

“Only the best for you, baby,” Tony coos, jokingly nuzzling up to Bucky. Bucky scoffs and pulls a bottle of champagne out of the bag.

“I bet you and Steve will have fun with that,” Rebecca chances. Bucky didn’t miss the intonation she applied to Steve’s name, graciously deciding to flip her off. It only ends up making his sister laugh, but Bucky likes the sound of it. 

Tony nudges Bucky. “There’s something else.”

Bucky dips his left hand into the bag, knowing exactly what it is when he feels something connect to the metal. When he draws his hand out, there’s a small heart shaped magnet dangling from his fingers.

“‘Dear Bucky, forever and always. You are now old. Again. Love, Tony.’” Bucky smiles sheepishly at the note and sticks it on his upper arm. He turns to give Tony a hug. To anyone else it might seem odd, novel, or maybe even inappropriate for a birthday gift, but since the two have known each other, Bucky’s gathered a collection of birthday magnets from Tony. Every year on Tony’s birthday, Bucky will sport every single one, but only then. People probably don’t give Tony enough credit for the type of friend he is, but Bucky’d be damned if he didn’t.

“You know I love you,” Tony says, pulling back, “but I have a meeting real soon and if I don’t make it on time Pepper will have my ass for it.”

Bucky nods understandingly and lets him leave.

“I’m next,” Clint offers. Bucky tilts his chin up, sceptical of his friend’s uncharacteristic eagerness. He hands over an envelope, inside of which is a birthday card that says ‘Happy Birthday!’ on the outside, and ‘you piece of shit’ on the inside. Classic Clint. A piece of paper is tucked into the card, and when Bucky unfolds it to see the letters ‘IOU’ scrawled out, Clint snaps a picture of his face.

“Wow thanks, I feel so loved,” Bucky deadpans. “Fuck you, man!”

“Calm down boys,” Natasha says, “I got you something; just take it from the both of us.”

Bucky scrunches his nose at the idea. “Gross. You two aren’t married; you can’t give joint gifts. I’m holding onto this IOU, Barton. You better pay up.”

Same as every year, Natasha got a renewal for Bucky’s gym membership which goes appreciated and put to use every time. In addition, she hands over a white cardboard box that has a bit of weight to it.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“Open it and find out, genius,” Clint mutters. Bucky repeats the line and mimics Clint’s voice to mock him, but mostly it’s to make Rebecca laugh. It’s good to see her happy, to know that she’s doing so well. He’ll take every chance he gets to see her smile.

“Oh god,” Bucky says, colour draining from his face. In the box is a silver picture frame, like one might buy for a newlywed couple. A small dove is sitting atop two adjacent hearts, each framing a separate picture. One of them is unmistakably Bucky’s ass. He knows because those are his purple boxers that Clint gave him last year with little guns on them.

“Whose ass is this?” Bucky asks, pointing to the one that’s in the opposite frame.

“Don’t tell me you of all people don’t know that ass by heart,” Clint says smugly.

Bucky knows. He knows by the twist in his stomach, and the tinge of guilt he feels for knowing since he spends as much time as he can sneaking longing glances.

“That’s Steve’s ass, isn’t it?” Rebecca asks, leaning over to get a good look. “Damn,” she says wistfully. Bucky gapes and pushes her away, quickly putting the frame back in its box. His cheeks are hot, and he hates to admit it.

“How did you even get these pictures?” Bucky asks incredulously. He’s pretty Steve was sporting one of his super tight stripper pants. God help Bucky.

“Steve sent them,” Natasha says with a shrug.

Bucky pauses. “You mean Steve took a picture of my ass without me knowing?”

“For a good cause.”

Bucky’s head is running through a string of swears. Steve was a part of this, and he blatantly _took a picture of Bucky’s ass_.

Why is Steve making this whole platonic front so difficult?

“I’ve got the perfect thing for you in that case,” Becca says, handing over a neatly wrapped box. She hops into the empty space beside Bucky. Bucky cautiously unwraps the paper.

“Becca,” Bucky breathes. “You shouldn’t have got this you…”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t get for my big brother’s birthday!”

“But this camera it’s too much! How much did this cost you? I can’t let you give me this, come on.”

Rebecca rolls her eyes and cuddles up to her brother. “It’s fine. I saved up for this and I still have plenty of money to pay the bills, and then some. Besides, if you really want to pay me back, send me some professional shots of Steve’s butt.”

Bucky laughs, pulling his sister in for a hug. “You’re stupid, you know that?”

“And you’re old,” Becca teases, scrunching her nose. “When you start up that fancy business of yours, you’re going to need some pretty pictures. And I know you like taking pictures anyway, so.”

Bucky tries to protest again, but the look Natasha gives him shuts him up. “Thank you, Bec.”

“I love you,” she mumbles quietly into his shoulder. Bucky smiles and says it back to her, just loud enough for her to hear.

Unfortunately for Bucky, he can’t imagine being able to pay her back in pictures of Steve’s ass any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu)  
> Not that it has any effect on you guys but uni is slowing down my writing pace a little. I mean in my folder for the fic I've got plenty chapters saved up to post so even if I take a short break we're all safe.  
> India and I are working on a playlist that might be available soon once we get a couple final ones added!!! So excited for that. Also if any of you guys happen to be artists... I'm a sucker for Steve/Bucky and if I get anything for the fic that will just... Oh boy. Thank you guys for sticking by me in this stupid, stupid fic. I love you guys.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! Heads up India signed up for AO3 so I could credit her as my co-author properly :-)  
>  Also the playlist is coming along and almost complete; I'm just waiting on two more tracks and some album art that my new buddy is making me and I'll release it to you guys as soon as I can!  
> Well if you're observant you'll notice something... different. Read onwards my dear friends.  
> Note: there's mentions of alcohol in this and typically it'll pop up in the fic. Not that I have any firsthand experience, so it might be written totally horribly. Not that I have firsthand experience with anything these boys face in this story, but.

**Buck:** _would u believ me if i told u it was a shark?_

 **Steve Rogers:** _Maybe I’d believe you more if you said you got it stuck in a garbage disposal trying to get a spoon out while the thing was on._

 **Buck:** _o man thats a good one. ill use that one on a customer._

 **Steve Rogers:** _Idiot. You almost done class?_

 **Buck:** _just leaving. ill be 15_

 **Steve Rogers:** _See you then._

***

Steve looks around the apartment. It’s not decorated beyond a couple of balloons he brought that are filled with helium (by himself; Steve decided it would be interesting to keep a helium tank in the place). He wanted to make a birthday dinner for Bucky, but work didn’t exactly allow for that when he had to take meetings for the upcoming track meets. He did manage to put together a quick box cake and slather it elegantly with a fresh batch of vanilla icing, which he then proceeded to douse in a generous (but always tasteful) amount of rainbow sprinkles.

All in all, Steve’s content with what he’s got planned, even if it’s nothing big. That being said he’s still irrationally nervous when he hears the lock turn from the other side of the door. His heart’s going too fast, probably because of the adrenaline associated with giving someone a surprise, but it’s enough to make Steve chicken out and lock himself in the bathroom.

“Steve?” he hears Bucky call.

“’M in the bathroom,” Steve replies, cringing before flushing the toilet and washing his hands. He splashes some cool water on his face and dries it off in hopes of calming down. It dulls the nervous bouncing into a faint buzz.

When Steve comes out, the first thing his eyes land on is Bucky. He has to push down the burst of excitement that ignites in his stomach.

“This for me?” Bucky asks, gesturing to the balloons and the cake that’s sitting unlit on the counter. His smile is warm and Steve has to remind himself that this can’t be more. He can’t afford this.

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah. I figured I should do something special. Just a little, you know.”

As if remembering their situation, Bucky awkwardly breaks the eye contact and ducks his head, muttering that he’ll be back once he’s changed into something comfier.

Steve’s inner dialogue is a mixture of him endlessly groaning with a chorus of “Why, why, why?” They need to loosen up, and there’s pretty much only one way to do that.

“I have tomorrow off,” Bucky announces when he comes out of his room, clad in a loose white shirt that’s too thin and some grey sweatpants. “You know, since I usually drink away my misery on my birthday every year.”

Steve forces a smile. He wants to ask what Bucky means, but he doesn’t think he’s allowed to.

“What say we start the night off with a few shots of vodka?” Steve suggests, knowing he needs it just as much as the birthday boy.

Bucky’s lopsided grin makes Steve’s breathing easier as he moves over to the cabinet where they keep the drinks and pours out a round.

“To being old,” Steve toasts. Bucky doesn’t bother rousing at Steve’s ribbing, instead downing the liquor and appreciating the burn it leaves in its wake.

“I think we should wash that down with some cake,” Bucky mutters.

Steve laughs breathily, scratching his jaw. “Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” Bucky shrugs and heads back into the kitchen for plates, forks, and a knife, and is about to unceremoniously cut the cake without any hesitation when Steve jumps up from his seat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Bucky blinks at Steve. “I’m going to eat my birthday cake,” Bucky says slowly, his tone blatantly patronizing.

“I didn’t mean that, you jerk. Just hold off a second, will you? I gotta… Look, go into your room and order dinner. Whatever you want; it’s on me.”

Bucky shrugs but complies nonetheless, taking his shot glass and the bottle with him. Steve tries to quell the mother hen in himself and turns to the task at hand, pulling open a drawer and pushing tall white candles through the peaks of whipped cream and sponge. He stands back to assess it and moves a few to even out the spacing before lighting them all and calling Bucky out into the now darkened apartment.

“You little shit,” Bucky breathes when he sees the amount of candles on the cake.

“Twenty-eight candles for twenty-eight years,” Steve says proudly, and Bucky makes the grave mistake of glancing over to catch Steve’s stupid grin. His breath is caught in his throat at the sight of Steve in the glow of the candlelight, his already prominent facial structure highlighted to the point where Steve looks like a famous statue on display at a museum; one that requires _just_ the right lighting to honour its distinguished existence.

It’s not until Steve looks at him quizzically that he clamps his mouth shut and snaps his gaze back to the cake.

“Alright, let’s blow this sucker,” Bucky says, leaning forward to extinguish every single candle. It’s harder than he expected and leaves him red in the face and short of breath, but luckily the entire place is pitch black for a minute until Steve fumbles around and finds the lights, in which time the only telltale sign of Bucky’s lack of oxygen is his dizzied head.

Once the candles are plucked right back out and the slices are cut (Steve wanted to sing Happy Birthday but the death glare Bucky sent Steve stopped him right in his tracks), the two of them sit down with a couple of glasses of water. If it weren’t for how ridiculously amazing the cake tastes – fluffy, moist, and just sweet enough – and the fact that there is much of the night to go where Bucky has to show some form of restraint, Bucky would totally have gone through twice the amount of vodka as he already has.

“That was fucking amazing,” Bucky groans, tilting his head back to emphasize his claim. “Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem,” Steve replies, grabbing the plates and heading to the sink to wash them. He knows that if he were to stare a little too long, or if Bucky started giving him that warm appreciative look, Steve wouldn’t be able to keep his mind on the straight and narrow, so he opts for doing anything that can distract him in the slightest.

When the buzzer sounds, Bucky pushes the button and lets the delivery guy up. He thinks back to the other week when they pulled that prank and recalls Steve’s challenge, saying that he thought they could do better.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky calls. Steve pops his head out of the kitchen and raises his eyebrows. “Should we do another prank?”

The grin that spreads across Steve’s face is answer enough for Bucky.

“What should we do then?” Bucky asks.

Steve’s grin fades into a more pensive look, and he drums his fingers against the wall before answering, “Let’s just wing it. I’ll figure something out.”

***

Steve doesn’t know what he’s _thinking_ , but while he’s not flat out drunk his decisions might not be the best right now. Which is why, when he hears the door open, he hums the bars to the chorus of _Birthday Sex_.

Bucky’s ears pick up the tune almost as soon as it starts, and he stutters on his thanks to the delivery boy as he sets the food aside. Whatever he thought Steve might have in mind, it was _definitely_ not this.

When it becomes apparent Steve won’t stop, Bucky bites back a grin and starts singing along, loud and surprisingly in tune (if there is much of a tune that song can carry).

Bucky goes straight into the second verse, not even taking a moment to bask in the pure horror on the delivery boy’s face.

By the time Bucky’s singing, “We grinding with passion,” Bucky’s serious front is starting to falter, and it doesn’t help that Steve cuts in with the back up vocals of, “Cause it’s your birthday.”

Despite his urge to laugh, Bucky keeps it up and fails miserably when Steve sings, “Taste just like Hershey’s,” dissolving into giggles. He turns around to Steve to see if he’s in any better shape, but Bucky’s mouth runs dry when he sees Steve off in his own head, dancing to the music in his head.

Steve’s dancing is getting dangerously close to his work routine, and Bucky can tell the delivery boy is watching when he hears him swear under his breath.

Any other time Bucky would love to drink in the sway of Steve’s hips and the obscene way he’s biting his lower lip, but right now it seems intensely inappropriate.

“Steve,” Bucky says, voice unsurprisingly tight. Bucky turns on his heel and slams the door shut on the delivery boy’s face, and then turns back to Steve.

Steve blinks with wide eyes. “Oops.”

“Just a bit. _Christ_ , Steve!”

Steve shrugs and smiles sheepishly, ducking his head and leaving the scene with a tiny, “Sorry.”

Bucky swears, and is about to pull his hair out when he hears a knock at the door.

“Uh, you forgot to pay,” the delivery boy says. Bucky, face bright red, apologizes and hands some cash to the poor guy, telling him to keep the change.

“Happy birthday,” he says, right before dashing down the stairs. Bucky lets out a litany of Russian swears.

 _Steve fucking Rogers_.

***

“We are not watching The Proposal on my birthday,” Bucky whines.

“But it’s an ode to how we met! Come on, have a sense of humour!”

Bucky pouts and flails on the couch helplessly. “That was the most embarrassing moment of my life; I would much rather forget that.”

Steve gasps, clutching his hand over his heart. “Honey, how could you _say_ such a thing? That was the best day of my _life_!”

Bucky drops his head onto the back of the sofa and glares at Steve. “Stop it.”

“Seriously, I still have that fucking ring. When I moved I cleared out the fridge and freezer that were pretty empty anyway and, well. Now it’s in the back of your freezer.”

Bucky turns his focus back to the Netflix display of the movie. He has no idea what to do with that information. Thankfully, Steve presses play on the movie and neither of them has to say a word as they divert their attention.

 _Why the fuck did I say that?_ Steve thinks, hoping that it didn’t sound incredibly weird to Bucky. _Fuck_. He reaches for the still unfinished vodka on the table, just as Bucky reaches for his own shot glass. They share a quick rueful grin before taking a hit, following the moment with an awkward laugh.

“This movie is going to be shit,” Bucky mutters, glad to hear Steve laugh quietly.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Bucky groans and leans back into the couch and endures the pain, much to his dismay.

***

They keep their drinking too a minimum, both aware that in each other’s company it’d be better to not push any lines, but even so Bucky’s impressed that Steve’s holding his alcohol as well as he is right now, not acting too differently from how he normally would with a light buzz.

“Hey,” Bucky says seriously, forcing Steve to pause the movie halfway through. It’s a shit movie, anyway. “Uh, so. We’ve known each other pretty long now and it’s probably the right time to tell you this…”

“Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant,” Steve says, face going white as a sheet.

Bucky whacks him upside the head. “No you idiot, I have a dick. And for that to have happened… Oh my God, no,” Bucky stammers, his cheeks flushing red. Steve laughs at him, but stops when Bucky’s frown deepens.

“Steve… I – I’m not who you think I am.”

Steve blinks. “What do you mean?” What could be so jarring about Bucky’s reality after Bucky finding out Steve’s a stripper?

Bucky takes a deep breath and fiddles with his hands, looking down solemnly. He turns towards Steve a bit more and hesitates more, drilling Steve’s patience. “I’m… I’m JOHN CENAAAAAA!”

Steve looks incredibly unimpressed as Bucky falls forward laughing.

“Come on you punk, that was _hilarious_ ,” Bucky insists, but Steve remains steadfast.

The humour of the situation is immediately lost when Steve says, “Fine, no presents for you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Steve rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the couch. “No, I don’t because I’m not as mean as you.”

“Please, I’m not mean! What have I ever done to you that’s mean?”

Steve doesn’t bother answering, retreating to his room to fetch the gift bag for Bucky.

“You don’t deserve this,” Steve says when he drops the bag onto the couch beside Bucky.

“Not true.”

“You don’t deserve _me_ ,” Steve adds.

“Half true.”

Steve doesn’t bother thinking on that too hard, too busy being nervous about Bucky’s reaction to the gifts to think about anything else.

Bucky pulls out a packet of temporary tattoos of red, white, and blue stars. “Patriotic much?”

“I didn’t… I don’t know,” Steve mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. Of course Bucky would get the dumb one out first.

The next thing in the bag is a bottle of Prada cologne. “Isn’t this shit expensive?” Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs. “It helps to be a stripper from time to time.”

Bucky squints at Steve but brushes the comment off. “Wait… Do I stink? Is this your way of telling me?”

“No, Buck, don’t be stupid. I didn’t know what to get and Nat suggested – ”

“ _Nat_? How’d you get her number?”

Steve stumbles on his words. “Uh. I uhm, you know. That party I saw you guys at when I pretended to be your, uh. You got pretty smashed and I asked what I should do with you and she said I could take you back to mine,” Steve admits, not adding the part where Natasha said Bucky would probably thank him for it in the morning, “and she gave me her number to keep her updated since she worries about you and all. She’s a good friend.”

Bucky watches him closely, making Steve shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny, but he lets it go.

“There’s, uhm. There’s something else at the bottom,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky pulls out a tiny black mask and looks at it in confusion.

“Uh, for the… I saw in your room the other day the stuffed animal you have and… I don’t know I thought it was missing something.”

“If you say it looked a little _bare_ I will kill you right now,” Bucky says, though the threat in the statement is lost by the way Bucky’s voice falters, followed by a sniff. “You know my mom got me that. She made the outfit for it a few years later when I got into superheroes and all. It…” Bucky trails off. He clenches his jaw and gets off the couch, going into his room and coming back empty handed.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“You’re welcome, Buck.”

Bucky snaps himself out of it quickly. “I need another shot.”

Steve laughs, not thinking before the next sentence slips out of his mouth. “I’m not so sure I’ll join you; a few more shots and I’d be drunk enough to do something stupid like offer you a birthday blowjob.”

Apparently Steve’s tongue is looser than he expected it to be.

He clears his throat and reaches for the vodka, more in hopes of getting drunk enough to not remember any of this in the morning than to make the mistake of drinking too much and pulling a line like that. Before he can wrap his hand around the bottle, Bucky snatches it away from him. Steve sits up straight and makes the conscious decision to not look at Bucky.

“So uh, tell me about another one of them bad dates you’ve had,” Steve attempts, but Bucky curbs the diversion.

“Uhuh. What is this? What are you doing?”

Steve feels the blush from humiliation creeping up the back of his neck. “What?”

Bucky squints, burning a hole into Steve’s skull with his gaze (Steve, who still refuses to look in Bucky’s direction). “Don’t pretend you didn’t say what you just said.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Yeah, so what?”

There is no way Steve is serious. Bucky can’t imagine Steve casting out a line as blunt as that out there unless there was actually something to it. Yeah they flirt and torture themselves more than they should, but it never gets to this.

Steve finally turns to Bucky, but only to grab at the bottle. Bucky smugly yanks the bottle out of his reach again. “Nuh uh. ‘So what?’ So what you just said you’d suck my dick and I haven’t gotten a decent lay in months.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky. _Months? Man, that’s unfortunate_ , Steve thinks, _but it’s really everyone else missing out_. “Who says I’m a decent lay?” he prods. He can’t help the playfulness in his tone; it’s natural with Bucky, and even if it’s a risky situation, he can’t help it.

“Have you seen your mouth?” Bucky asks, pointedly staring at Steve’s slow smile.

“Please, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“So you’re saying you’re a bad fuck?”

Steve frowns. He might not have _that_ much of an ego, but when it comes to something he knows he’s good at, Steve will defend himself any way he has to. “I didn’t say _that_ at all.”

“What you gonna do about it Rogers: prove me wrong?”

The corners of Steve’s mouth quirk into a smile, the spark of a challenge in his eyes. “Please, Barnes, we both know you couldn’t handle me.”

Bucky hasn’t broken eye contact, and is somehow a lot closer than he was before, breath brushing against Steve’s skin when he whispers, “Try me.”

Bucky’s tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip, and before any more space can be lost between them, Steve slips off the couch and onto his knees before Bucky. Bucky swears under his breath at the sight. This is not happening.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, thinking in a last moment attempt to not fuck up that he should check if Steve’s sure. Steve looks up and hums inquisitively, right before smoothing his hands up Bucky’s thighs and palming his cock through the denim. Bucky drops his head back onto the couch with a gasp, and Steve is more than pleased to find that Bucky is already half hard from their coy preamble.

“You were saying?” Steve mutters, keeping one hand at work on Bucky’s crotch while the other works its way under Bucky’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. He feels Bucky go tense underneath him and stops. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just. You sure?”

Steve, too far in to this to want anything else, teasingly traces his fingers lightly across Bucky’s abdomen and makes his stomach jump, before replying, “It’s your birthday.”

If they were sober that wouldn’t be a good enough excuse to go ahead with this for either of them, but they’re not, so any inhibitions they had are lost to desire. Bucky wants this, and so does Steve. It’s as simple as that.

Before any more words can get between them Steve gets back to work, taking his hand from Bucky’s skin to tug down his sweatpants.

“Just,” Bucky mutters, pushing Steve back a bit. He shuffles his way out of his pants and chucks them aside, leaving his boxers on so Steve can decide what he wants to do.

Steve’s lips quirk into a smirk at Bucky’s eagerness, which makes Bucky groan and tells him to hurry the fuck up.

“Patience,” Steve croons, and Bucky lets out a strangled noise before relaxing into the couch. Not having expected Bucky’s compliance, Steve swallows and takes a moment to appreciate the way Bucky’s legs fall open more, giving Steve all the control he wants.

Steve takes the opportunity to duck down and let his lips hover over the inside of Bucky’s knee, hesitating before pressing against the skin. Bucky sighs, and Steve takes it as a good sign, so he slowly makes his way up Bucky’s thigh, kisses getting hotter and more open mouthed. Steve chances a scrape of his teeth against the skin, pleased with the twitch in Bucky’s left hand that the gesture produces.

It’s painfully slow, the way Steve takes his time to trace a path up Bucky’s thigh, finally getting where Bucky wants him. Bucky lets out a slight whimper when Steve hooks his fingers into the waistband of Bucky’s boxers and tugs them down to his ankles.

“Whether you can handle me or not,” Steve mutters, eyes dark and looking up at Bucky, “You sure are eager for it.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky replies, the words sounding weak to his own ears. He bites his lip when Steve lets out a low laugh, right before running the flat of his tongue up Bucky’s cock. He pulls back, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile when Bucky’s hips jerk up, chasing his touch.

“What did I say about being patient?” Steve says, and even though Bucky doesn’t do much to comply besides glare down at Steve, he wraps his hand around the base of Bucky’s cock and gives the poor boy some relief.

If he’s honest, Steve is practically torturing himself as much as he is Bucky, not bothering to touch himself in spite of how turned on he is by the little breathy noises Bucky lets out at every flick of Steve’s wrist.

“Please,” Bucky says, clamping his mouth shut when he realizes the plea escaped his mouth. Steve smirks.

Saving Bucky from further humiliation, Steve ducks his head back down and flicks his tongue out to taste Bucky’s arousal, then takes him into his mouth. He works up a rhythm, keeping one hand at Bucky’s hip to hold him down whenever he reacts to the swirl of Steve’s tongue around the head of his cock.

Bucky’s senses are on overload, and maybe Steve was onto something when he challenged Bucky about not being able to handle him, because he’s having a hard time keeping still. He tentatively slips his right hand into Steve’s hair, a string of Russian expletives leaving his lips when Steve hums approvingly around his cock.

Steve’s hand leaves his cock to reach under Bucky’s shirt again briefly before Steve takes him in deeper, and then raises his hand to Bucky’s lips expectantly. Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. He parts his lips and sucks on Steve’s fingers, moaning around them. He feels heat coiling in his stomach and pushes up against the hand on his hips, and Steve slowly lets him.

When Steve removes his fingers and trails them down to Bucky’s entrance, Bucky lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m,” Bucky pants, whining at the slight graze of teeth against his cock. “Fuck, Steve, you have to slow down or I–”

Steve doesn’t slow down. Instead, he picks up his pace and teases Bucky with his fingers, looking up at him through his lashes.

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, and before he can say another word, Steve pushes a finger inside of Bucky, and Bucky’s head drops on the back of the couch as he lets out a long drawn moan, coming into Steve’s mouth.

The buzz holds out long after his orgasm passes, his nerves hypersensitive to the places where Steve is still touching him. His mind in a haze, Bucky hardly notices when Steve reaches down between his own legs and takes care of himself, only realizing when Steve inhales with a sharp gasp and drops his head against Bucky’s thigh, letting out laboured breaths.

The silence that follows rings loud in Bucky’s ears, and as his thoughts eventually swim back to him he realizes what just happened. He tenses up. What is he supposed to say or do? What does this change between them? Bucky swallows and opens his mouth to say something, though what he’s not sure. He’s not even formed the first word when Steve stands up, rigid and avoiding eye contact.

 _Steve_ , Bucky calls out, but he can’t help that the name is stuck in his throat.

Steve clears his throat and throws out the take out containers before heading to his room. Right before he shuts the door, he turns around, still not looking directly at him. “Happy birthday,” he says one last time, voice so quiet that Bucky almost misses it.

Yeah. Happy Birthday.

Bucky drinks straight from the bottle. Why should this year be any different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :----------) (Stevie tells me that looks like a skinny dick and now I hate her) 
> 
> Alright so the delivery prank was totally inspired by [this](https://vine.co/v/MBw2a2PWi76) aka my fave thing ever.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist is still in the works... Trying to find that right closing track and also waiting on PAIGE *narrows eyes* to produce something special.  
> Anyway I hope you guys are having a fabulous week!  
> While writing this I've been listening to a /lot/ of Kodaline and I suggest you guys check out their music!!  
> Also gonna throw in a quick mention for my current fave WIP that is driving me nuts: just say you do by biblionerd07 here up on ao3. Go find it and weep because it deserves so much attention.

Steve isn’t the type of man who would change himself for someone else’s sake. If someone can’t handle who he is, then that’s their issue. But right now he really, really wishes he could diminish his habit of doing full body yawns, stretching his arms out as wide as possible.

Why? Well, the morning after Bucky’s birthday when Bucky finally came out and Steve was on the couch before he had to leave for work, Steve didn’t hear him and did a full body yawn. And where did Steve’s arm go? That’s right. When he stretched, filling his lungs with air, the back of Steve’s hand went straight into Bucky’s crotch with full yawning stretch momentum.

“ _Fuck_!” Bucky exclaims, doubling over in pain, his hands immediately covering his groin to protect himself from any further damage. “What the _fuck_ Steve?”

Steve stares, his cheeks flaring up. “I – Sorry.”

Bucky’s still feeling the after effects of the alcohol from the night before, and being hit in the dick only adds to his troubles. He winces, staring down at his hands with the most mournful look on his face. He glances up at Steve, catching his embarrassed expression. It makes no sense that the night before this man was on his knees taking Bucky into his mouth like he wanted it from the second they’d met, and now he’s blushing like a virgin.

“You…” Bucky starts incredulously, wanting to point out the ridiculousness of Steve’s quick flip, but he shakes his head and lets Steve off the hook. “Ow,” he whines, retreating to his room in efforts to take refuge from Steve and his rampant hands so that he can curl in on himself until the pain ebbs.

As unfortunate as it was, Steve is kind of thankful that they can sidestep the awkwardness lingering from last night’s events for the time being. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready for that conversation.

***

Steve sneaks into the teacher’s lounge at work later that morning hoping no one’s in there. He relaxes to find that it’s just Bruce but doesn’t do anything beyond nod his head in a greeting. While pouring himself a fresh round of coffee he can feel Bruce’s gaze on him, making the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end.

“What?” Steve whines, slumping when he turns around. Bruce’s mouth twitches into a smile.

“Nothing.”

Steve narrows his eyes and cradles his coffee close to him, slipping onto the cheap couch. “As if. Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Nothing, I swear! It’s just…” Bruce pauses, eyes flickering across Steve in an obvious attempt to read him. “This is your third coffee this morning and it’s not even noon.”

Steve sips, swearing under his breath when he burns the tip of his tongue. “I just… I didn’t sleep well last night and was up pretty late. And uh. Drank a bit, so yeah.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow that’s normally hidden behind the frame of his glasses. “Normally people aren’t so miserable the night after getting laid,” he comments.

Steve snaps his eyes up at his co-worker. “Wh… How do you get that?”

Bruce shrugs and makes his way over to sit beside Steve. “I’m good with people. Can read them easily.” Steve frowns and wraps both hands around the mug to steal its warmth. The weather is still a little chilly on occasion, and today is one of those hormonal ‘I will be cold if I want to’ days for New York, and naturally the school’s heater has blown out. “We’re the only two on break right now; everyone else has class for at least,” Bruce pauses to check his watch. “At least twenty minutes. Talk to me.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck and rolls his shoulders. It’s times like these when he wishes Sam were here with him, but then again everything Steve has told Sam about Bucky has led him to the conclusion that they’re already something along the lines of friends with benefits, so telling him what happened wouldn’t help Steve’s case.

Bruce, though. Bruce is good. He’s been a solid colleague since Steve started, always making kind small talk and sometimes going out of his way to grab a drink after school. Next to Sharon, Steve thinks Bruce is the best co-worker he’s got.

“It wasn’t… We’re friends, right? I mean… There’s always been that drive between us but I can’t do that kind of thing right now and I told them that, and they were fine with it. Last night was their birthday and we drank and I uh… You can fill in the rest.”

Bruce gives Steve a moment, though he won’t add anything more to his confession. “So you’re not happy about this,” Bruce suggests, continuing only when Steve makes a somewhat affirmative grumble. “And you two are… close friends?”

“Roommates, would you believe?”

“Oh. Well that makes this more difficult.”

Steve sighs, putting his mug aside to rub his hands over his face. “No kidding. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I go home.”

Bruce waves his hands around flippantly, trying to figure out the right thing to say. “It depends on where you want it to go. If you want it to keep them at arms length, then you can pass it off as a drunken encounter; those things happen.”

Steve listens, he does. But Steve knows he wasn’t _that_ much out of it last night to not have consciously made the decision. He can’t imagine Bucky was all that drunk either, especially since he asked Steve if he was sure about it. Fuck though, he was sure about it. He had been at the time, so sure that he wanted to give Bucky the kind of pleasure that he wouldn’t be able to forget, but now all Steve wants is to pretend it didn’t happen, like he didn't let himself slip.

“If you want it to move forward, you talk to him about that.”

Steve catches on the pronoun switch that Bruce slips. “Him?”

Bruce cringes. “Well correct me if I’m wrong…”

Steve doesn’t correct him.

“So what, I just pretend it didn’t happen?” Steve asks. He’s not so sure he can do that.

“If you need to talk it out, go for it. But like I said, if the guy’s not going to be more than a friend any time soon you have to draw that line for yourself. Then you can forget and work at moving on from there.”

It all sounds so simple and logical, it really does. Steve wishes he could forget the way Bucky said his name, desperate for release, but even sitting in the teacher’s lounge with his co-worker Steve can’t think about anything else.

“Thanks for the help, Dr. Banner.”

“Any time,” Bruce says, nodding as Steve leaves the room. Maybe the disturbing army of Minions in Steve’s office will distract him from his lewd train of thought.

***

Bucky’s sprawled on the couch watching Parks and Recreation when Steve comes home from work, and when he hears the lock turn it’s too late to try and make a run for his room without it being obvious. Bucky never leaves behind his Parks and Rec.

“Hey,” Bucky says once Steve comes in. Steve looks up with wide eyes and forces a smile, giving a quick tip of his hand before dashing into his room. Grudgingly, Bucky makes an effort to sit up on the sofa to appear somewhat civilized. He doesn’t blame Steve for his alarmed reproach, but it’s not even been a whole day and Bucky’s already sick of this. No, he won’t be forgetting about Steve’s hands on his skin (and he refuses to think past that with Steve in the apartment) any time soon, but Bucky can’t take this awkward tip toeing around the subject.

When Steve finally comes out and goes to the kitchen, Bucky pipes up, “Hey, Steve, do you recognize this number?” He recites the digits of an unknown number from whom he received a text from earlier that day.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s Sam. Did he wish you a happy birthday?”

 _Not in the way you did_ , Bucky automatically thinks, then scolds himself for it.

“Yeah, just this morning. A bit late, but it’s the thought that counts. That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, well. He’s a nice guy.”

Bucky chews the inside of his cheek and opens his texts, reading through the short conversation with Steve’s friend. Yes, Sam wished him a happy birthday, but Bucky doesn’t tell Steve that Sam also asked if he got any action last night, to which Bucky thoughtlessly replied that indeed, he did. He wasn’t aware him and Sam were already that casual with each other, but what the heck, why not?

Bucky was off the hook for the rest of the day, Sam not pushing any more. Until the moment Bucky’s phone vibrates in his hand.

 **Sam W:** _Was working so I couldn’t text, sorry._

Oh yeah, and Sam has the same irritatingly correct grammar and punctuation texting habits as Steve.

 **Sam W:** _So are you going to spill who it was?_

Bucky stares at the screen, then glances up at Steve momentarily.

 **Bucky Barnes:** _dnt kiss n tell ;) besides u wldnt kno them_

Hoping Sam will stay off his case, Bucky rolls his neck and gets back to his show.

***

Bucky’s only interrupted once when Sam sends a string of emojis that insinuate him being scandalized. Bucky wishes the latest iPhone update had a middle finger emoji.

***

“Did you fucking tell Sam?” Steve says later that afternoon, bursting out of his room with the most distraught look on his face.

“What?” Bucky says, pausing the show. “I – No, I didn’t say anything to him!”

Steve clenches his jaw and chances moving towards Bucky, shoving his phone screen in Bucky’s face. “Then why did Sam send me a bunch of intrusive texts asking how you are with multiple suggestive emojis?”

Bucky panics. How in the world did Sam… “He… The most that happened was that he asked if I got some last night and I said yes, but I didn’t say it was _you_!”

There’s a moment of confused silence where both of them are staring at each other, but just when Bucky expects Steve to blame him Steve breaks down into laughter. It’s tired and unexpected, but it’s genuine, and that’s enough to make Bucky laugh along with him.

“This is ridiculous,” Steve mutters, tentatively taking a seat beside Bucky.

“ _We’re_ ridiculous,” Bucky corrects. He runs a hand through his hair and watches Steve for a moment. If Steve didn’t mean for it to happen, Bucky won’t press him for it, even if he can’t forget. But being the hopeful soul that he is, Bucky lets Steve be the first to speak in case he has somehow changed his mind.

Steve shakes his head and cringes, smiling ruefully at Bucky. “Blank slate?” he asks.

Bucky ignores the protesting twist of his gut and offers a small smile in return. “Tabula rasa.”

“Wow you piece of nerd shit,” Steve comments, gaping at Bucky who doesn’t hesitate to shove Steve by the shoulder.

“Whatever,” Bucky grumbles.

When it becomes clear that neither of them plans on saying anything more, Bucky presses play and the two of them watch the show until Steve has to go strip for the night.

“Go to bed,” Steve says before shutting the door behind him.

Yeah, with how hard Bucky had to keep prying his eyes off of Steve’s lips he’ll sure be going to bed, but whether or not he’ll sleep is another thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-) sorry i swear i'm so disappointing sometimes haha  
> hope you enjoyed~ leave comments and kudos to make me n' India go all squishy!!  
> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update! Yesterday was super busy with a midterm and an organic chemistry quiz, and today was just... hectic. But hey, as of tonight I'm an official Canadian and I can vote on Monday! Yay!  
> Thank you guys so much for your feedback. It always makes India and I so happy.  
> Playlist is still on a waiting list, so I'll give up mentioning it until it's complete.  
> Exciting stuff coming out of this fic, though. Can't wait for you guys to get in on it.  
> Heads up for this chapter: some rocky and questionable stuff happens on Steve's part with a lady so.. yea

Bucky’s started growing his hair out. It took a little long for Steve to notice really, that despite seeing him every day he didn’t put his finger on it until Bucky’s hair hung past his ears. He doesn’t want to admit it – chastises himself for even _thinking_ it – but Steve likes it. A lot. Especially now that it’s long enough that Bucky has to tie it back in either a little ponytail or a bun to keep the longer strands from curtaining his face for his professional workspace. Steve doubts his work approves, considering it definitely doesn’t suit the whole upscale department store vibe, but something tells Steve Bucky’s high earnings as a result of endless flirting have something to do with it.

It’s not like Bucky intended to let his hair come just above his shoulders, but he got a little lazy with it, and besides, he likes the way it feels. Short hair is easy maintenance, but it’s nice to have something to fiddle with, to drag his fingers through.

Bucky never catches the longer, appreciative glances Steve steals.

***

“When I come home from a long night of stripping I like to unwind with a good run on the Hallmark channel, is that so wrong?” Steve whines, trying to grab some popcorn before Bucky snatches the bowl out of his reach.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Come _on,_ what man your age watches the type of shows and movies on this thing? I swear you’re a Facebook mom.”

“You know, Sharon said that about my Minions – ”

“Yeah, because it’s true.”

“And you don’t know what you’re talking about; Betty White is a _queen_.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “Wait… Wait you’re telling me you watch _Golden Girls_ at three fucking am when you come home after grinding and gyrating your way through the night?”

Steve throws Bucky a glare to try and compensate for the blush that’s flourishing on his cheeks. “Queen,” he reiterates, as if Bucky would understand any better.

“You’re so ridiculous. I don’t know why I hang out with you,” Bucky mutters.

“Because I live with you,” Steve reminds him. Like Bucky could ever forget.

Bucky sighs and pauses, glancing at the bit of space between them where they’re both sat on the carpet with legs out, backs leaning against the sofa. “Are you going to get up to find the damn remote?” Bucky asks.

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Fine, then neither am I.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and endures the movie that’s playing for as long as it takes for their dinner to come in. He decides to spare the soul who’s providing them with food today, both of them clearly too lazy to get off their asses to pull a half-assed prank. When he goes back to the floor with the food, Bucky finally changes the TV input to put something random (but more endurable) on Netflix.

“How To Train Your Dragon 2 is supposed to be good,” Steve comments offhandedly.

“Clint told me it made him cry,” Bucky says.

“Definitely worth watching in that case,” Steve says with a grin. Bucky smirks and shoots Clint a text after starting the film.

 **Bird boy:** _you will shed real man tears. you’ve been warned. just wait and see._

Bucky rolls his eyes and settles back, watching the movie with Steve.

It’s normal and comfortable, and it feels a whole lot better than that awkward period they shared between Bucky’s birthday. Granted, Steve is still a little jumpy when Bucky unthinkingly brushes past him and all, but they’re getting there.

When the food is finished, Bucky moves the plates and containers onto the coffee table they pushed aside earlier and lies down on his side, dropping his head into Steve’s lap. His lips quirk into a smile when he hears Steve’s surprised squeak.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Steve says.

Bucky rolls over a bit to look up at Steve. “You’d be surprised how comfy you are despite all your hard muscle and stuff.”

“Really?”

“Best human body pillow I’ve had so far,” Bucky assures him.

“I should test this on you next time,” Steve thinks aloud.

Bucky shakes his head. “Nuh uh. See, yours is real muscle from intense training and all that bullshit. All my muscle came from operation with touches of plastic surgery. I mean, how else do you think I’m so symmetrically built? And just so you know, that’s how I lost the arm.”

“I…” Steve says dumbly. He honestly has no idea how to deal with Bucky’s ridiculous stories anymore.

“Yeah, you see they botched up my left arm and it got infected real bad. Went all green and gross with bulging veins and weird warts, and – ”

“Stooop,” Steve whines.

“ – in the end they had to cut it off.”

Steve drops his head into his hands, peeking through his fingers down at Bucky. “You’re the worst.”

Bucky grins wide. “Thank you.”

***

Once they rewind to catch up with what they missed and actually watch the movie – though neither will admit to it – both of them cry a little.

***

Steve slowly gets to figure out Bucky’s schedule without asking, and even though the work hours change sometimes, it basically rotates between Bucky having a Tuesday or Saturday open. Steve makes sure that whatever it is for the week, he at least has his evenings open and isn’t working that night, even if that day is good for crowds. He just likes spending time with Bucky.

Bucky thankfully pretends not to notice, but it’s too obvious to not wonder why Mr. Hot and Perfect isn’t working some Saturdays for maximum pay.

Steve’s glad he does it though, because otherwise he’d miss out on the bemused look on Bucky’s face as he drags out a tank from the linen closet.

“What the fuck is this?”

Steve grins and jumps up from the couch to take the tank from Bucky and wheel it over to where they were sitting before. “Helium.”

“No fucking way.”

“Oh yes. I got it to fill up your birthday balloons,” Steve explains, quickly breezing over the words hoping Bucky doesn’t pick up on any unintentional innuendo, “and kept the tank for the sake of fun. I forgot about it till now, to be honest.”

“Can we use it?” Bucky says, staring at the cylinder with wide eyes. Steve bites back a laugh.

“Be my guest.”

“How do we…” Bucky trails off. Steve snaps his fingers and shoots off the couch again and into his room, returning with a plastic bag of deflated balloons.

“Fill them up and then we inhale, and the rest is what you make it.”

Bucky looks positively giddy, and Steve half wonders if maybe he should’ve just given this to him for his birthday. _Rather than a fucking blowjob_ , Steve thinks subconsciously. He coughs and wills the thought away.

***

They pass the entire night giggling like pre-teens passing stupid lines after having started with tentative high-pitched repetitions of, “Hello? Does this work?”

“Wait wait wait,” Bucky says in his normal voice, holding his hand up to try and get Steve to stop laughing. “Hold up.”

Bucky takes the balloon to his lips and takes in a lungful of the helium before bursting out, “ _I like big butts and I cannot lie! You other brothers can’t deny that when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face you get sprung!_ ”

Basically this entire night has been Bucky trying to get Steve to do that full body laugh thing that he does, but this time when Steve does it Bucky stops mid-laugh when Steve’s hand lands itself right on Bucky’s pec.

“Uh,” Bucky mutters, but Steve doesn’t notice and goes on like nothing happened.

Bucky makes a point of discreetly shooting Sam a text.

 **Sam W:** _Oh yeah, he does that sometimes. Probably should have warned you. Don’t think anything of it._

They finally decide to pack it in after a full hour of non-stop fucking about, but not before Bucky takes notice of how Steve’s eyes linger after the trail Bucky’s hand leaves when he runs it through his hair. His mouth twitches at the corners.

“Hey Steve,” he says. Steve looks up from his lap with wide eyes, eyebrows raised. Bucky inhales the helium and says, “My hair looks so sexy pushed back,” just as he appropriately and exaggeratedly pushes his hair out of his face. “Steve, will you please tell me my hair looks sexy pushed back?”

Steve fights off a grin and takes his own balloon to his mouth before responding in the most serious tone, “Your hair looks sexy pushed back.”

(So what if Steve kind of meant it?)

It takes some time before they call it a night and tidy up before turning in, Bucky complaining about his opening shift the next day.

Once Bucky’s tucked under his covers, he can’t help the warmth that curls in his stomach, and can’t fend off the smile that just won’t quit.

He’s happy, and it’s been a while since he’s been able to go to sleep thinking that. He’s glad him and Steve have sorted things out between them, because he can’t imagine not having this.

***

“Hi.”

Bucky snaps his head up from his phone that he really shouldn’t be on, only to find Steve grinning at him.

“You look guilty,” Steve says before Bucky can open his mouth. “Are you allowed to use phones on shift?”

“Not really,” Bucky admits, nudging his nose distractedly before putting his phone away. He wonders how Steve crept up on him without Bucky noticing. “But it’s not really busy right now, so no one can tell me I can’t.”

“And if someone saw you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and stretches in the stool he’s sitting on. “Then I’d mention my arm. People don’t ever ask questions about it.”

“Too scared?”

“Too pitiful,” Bucky corrects, quickly voiding his expression of the distastefulness that crossed his face. “So what’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”

Steve’s mouth quirks into a smile, but he doesn’t take the bait. “I don’t have another class until later this afternoon and managed to escape the clutches of the high school. I’m kind of sick of being around know-it-all teens and figured I could only escape one way, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch with me.”

“Lunch?” Bucky echoes, looking at the display watches that he painstakingly synchronizes every time a new shipment comes in. It’s past noon. “Right, lunch.”

Steve looks at him quizzically.

“Yeah, James here doesn’t take lunch too often, isn’t that right?” Bucky winces outwardly when he hears India’s voice. She has a habit of popping up at the worst moments.

“Could you maybe go do your job?” Bucky hisses, throwing a quick glare at her. India mocks being threatened and trots off, but Bucky can tell by the sly grin on her face that she’ll be back in no time.

“You don’t have lunch?” Steve asks, making Bucky snap out of his thoughts of vendetta against his co-workers.

“Don’t ever listen to India. She lies. I have lunch, I just… forget sometimes,” Bucky says, waving his hands dismissively. “Get too involved in the work and don’t realize what time it is and all.”

Steve’s mouth twitches into a frown, but he’s quick to mask it. “So do you want to join me then, or…” he trails off.

“Yeah!” Bucky jumps in. Honestly, he could use some time out of the shop; it’s getting to be maddening. Also, as if on command, his stomach grumbles. “Yeah, just give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be off on break.”

“Can I come too?” India chimes in, looking all too innocent for someone who supposedly left the vicinity a few moments ago.

Bucky groans but looks to Steve to see if he minds. Steve just shrugs, but India takes it as confirmation enough and slings an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, dragging him off to some corner of the store, claiming that she needs his opinion on the display layout of some new handbags that just got shipped in. 

Steve stands around awkwardly for a second before accepting that she won’t return his friend any time soon, then goes about checking out some ridiculously overpriced dress shirts.

It takes a little over fifteen minutes for Bucky and India to come back, and when they do Steve is quick to greet them, shooting Bucky a habitual warm smile.

“Oh my gosh,” India whispers under her breath, using all her will power to not roll her eyes. She’s a few moments from saying something to gravely humiliate Bucky when she catches sight of a familiar bob of brown hair approaching from behind Steve. “Sarah!” she calls out. Sarah lifts her head up, a slight look of surprise on her face before she catches sight of her friend and makes her way over, realizing all too late that India isn’t alone.

“Hi,” Sarah says sprightly, hoping to cover her buzzing nerves with enthusiasm. India grins at her and doesn’t bother consulting Bucky before extending the lunch offer to her. “Uh, yeah, my shift is over, so sure,” she answers, smiling apologetically at Bucky, who just shrugs it off.

“The more the merrier,” Bucky claims, thankful that he won’t be subject to India’s torturous malice alone (which might be exaggerating, but after the things that have gone down he could really use someone _not_ looking between him and Steve the way she does).

Sarah chances a glance at Steve, but fails to maintain eye contact only a second later, mumbling something incoherent. Steve tries to bite back anything beyond a polite smile, but Bucky catches the attempt at restraint, looking between the two of his friends with raised eyebrows.

“So the café sound alright?” India chirps, hoping to move them along before they lose their break time to more awkward smiles and stares. Honestly, there’s only so much she can bear with this lot.

Bucky nods and nudges her, walking beside her as they make their way to lunch, naturally leaving Steve and Sarah to walk behind them.

“How are you?” Steve asks, voice oddly quiet. Sarah ducks her head, hoping to avoid his gaze.

“Good, I’m good. And you?”

Steve replies saying he’s doing pretty alright himself, but doesn’t bother pushing the conversation once Sarah makes a whining noise in the back of her throat and picks up her pace to walk beside India. Steve frowns, but lets it go. He hopes Sarah doesn’t have an aversion to him.

***

Bucky just barely avoids having Steve pay for his lunch, having to awkwardly shove him out of the way in front of his co-workers just to tell the cashier to charge them separately.

“Look at them. It’s disgusting,” India mutters to Sarah.

Sarah shrugs. “I guess.”

India narrows her eyes at her friend and cocks her head to the side. “You like him.”

“What?” Sarah squeaks.

“Steve. You like him.”

Sarah turns her back to the boys and glares at India, who’s absentmindedly toying with the bells on her golden bracelet, peppering their conversation with tinkling noises. “You have eyes; of course I do. He’s a lovely young man with a very shapely ass,” she says matter-of-factly. India rolls her eyes and gestures to Sarah to keep her mouth shut, likely because Steve and Bucky are making their way over to the table they plan on sitting at.

“So,” India says when they’re settled down, both girls on one side with Sarah across from Steve, and India across from Bucky, “Bucky never told us what you did for his birthday.”

To his credit, Bucky doesn’t choke on anything, only telling his discomfort by the twitch of his left hand. Steve, on the other hand, takes it with a smile and tells them most of what happened, pointedly leaving out the drinking and the part where he permanently ruined every platonic thought Bucky has ever had for Steve.

“You know,” Sarah says thoughtfully, shooting an innocent smile at Bucky, “For saying Bucky talks about you so much we don’t know that much about you.”

Bucky groans and stabs his salad. “I do _not_ talk about you as much as she’s suggesting,” he clarifies, practically warning Steve not to challenge him with the glare sporting.

“But you do talk about me,” Steve points out, hiding his smile by putting a bottle of water to his lips. Bucky looks away.

“Well excuse me for having to share how stupid my roommate is,” Bucky mumbles.

“You changed the topic,” Sarah complains, gaining an edge of confidence and giving Steve the once over. “I want to know more about Steve.”

Steve smiles shyly, catching her gaze. “I’m a gym teacher at the high school nearby.”

“Yeah,” Bucky cuts in, “and he – ” Bucky starts, snapping his mouth shut when Steve shoots him a very, _very_ threatening glower. Steve feigns innocence and smiles sweetly at Sarah again.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and for some unspeakable reason, just as things were getting to be normal, Sarah blurts out, “You look like you need to go to the restroom. Do you need to go to the restroom? I can show you where they are.”

Everyone turns to stare at Sarah, who whines helplessly, an apology written all over her face. In some attempt to explain her outburst, she makes a noise in the back of her throat and gestures at Steve’s body, including the general area below the table, and then drops her head onto the table with a low groan. She chastises herself and wills for the ground to swallow her whole, but it doesn’t work. When Steve nudges his foot against hers under the table, all it does is make the humiliation sink deeper.

“So how’s work going?” India asks quickly, diverting the attention from Sarah. As far as friends go, India’s a fucking saviour.

Steve gets into talking about how it is working with classes of hormonal, angsty teenagers, kicking Bucky under the table when he tells the girls about Steve’s office full of Minions.

“I never should have told you,” Steve mutters.

“Oh please,” Bucky scoffs, “I’ve told you way more embarrassing things about me.”

“Suck my dick,” Steve shoots, voice slick with venom.

Despite the image that flickers behind his eyelids, Bucky is quick to spit back, “Please, I would never subject myself to such torture.”

“Well if he won’t I will.” Sarah no longer has any more feet to put in her mouth. “You know what, I actually have to go visit my mo-” she mutters, gathering her stuff to make a quick exit. When she rises to a stand, leaving her half full coffee cup stained with lipstick behind, Steve stands up too.

“I need to go to the bathroom. Would you mind showing me where they are?” Steve asks smoothly. Sarah stares, waiting for the punch line to come in, for him to point and laugh at her, but the sudden darkness in his eyes makes her reassess the situation.

It takes a moment for her to reply, “Gladly,” with a tight voice, confidence suddenly boosted and battling her nerves.

Bucky gapes, staring with disdain as Sarah leads Steve away, a purposeful sway to her hips as she struts away.

“Hey, you’re gonna get a fly in there, shut it,” India comments, forcing Bucky to close his mouth. “Man, you’re so whipped and nothing’s even happened between you two.”

Bucky whines.

“Wait, nothing _has_ happened between you two, right?”

“No,” Bucky snaps. India eyes him, finally deciding it’s just Bucky’s old lady bitterness spoiling his mood.

“Let Sarah have some fun; she’s been drooling over his ass since the first time we met him,” India says before getting back to her soup.

Suddenly, Bucky isn’t so hungry anymore.

***

When they finally return just over ten minutes later, Sarah has the most blissful, smug smile on her face. Her brown hair is quite obviously messier than before they left the table, but she doesn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she doesn’t mind. The most she does to compensate is straighten out the sleeveless button down she’s sporting.

Steve looks equally pleased, if not more, his cheeks flushed and a sheepish grin on his lips.

Bucky’s grumbling is immediately vanquished by the scandalous pair, seemingly not at all ashamed of their actions. He gets up and pulls Sarah aside. “Sarah what were you thinking? We’re at work; you could get _fired_!”

Sarah shrugs, rifling through her handbag to pull out a tube of shockingly red lipstick that she has to reapply. Bucky doesn’t even want to _think_ about where most of the stuff rubbed off, or the fact that Steve has telltale signs of it on his neck and the light grey fabric of his tight Under Armour shirt. “You know how there are people that come into your life only a few times, and you just _know_ they’re worth taking the risk for? Yeah, Steve was totally worth it.”

Bucky looks at Sarah like she has two heads.

“You had your chance, darlin’,” she says, noting Bucky’s irked mannerisms. “You missed out big time,” she adds, emphasizing the adjective with just the right intonation to let Bucky confirm his suspicions about Steve’s assets.

When Sarah finally leaves and India’s dashed back to work, Bucky takes a moment to say a quick bye to Steve.

“I can’t believe you two did that,” Bucky mutters, the twist in his gut telling him there’s more to how he’s feeling than plain disbelief.

“What?” Steve says, as if there’s nothing wrong with getting a fix in Bucky’s workplace. With his _co-worker_.

“I can’t believe she couldn’t keep it in her pants at work,” he says weakly, knowing he should probably keep his mouth shut.

“She wasn’t the one with her pants off.”

“Stop right now,” Bucky pleads. Steve just gives Bucky his typical blinding grin and tells Bucky he’ll see him back at the flat in the evening.

Bucky isn’t so sure he’ll be home tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to co-author India for the Hallmark Channel and the plastic surgery line which I rendered a little.  
> Also Steve?? and Sarah?? tf???
> 
> Up next: Do Steve and Bucky sort this shit out? Clint makes an appearance, Bucky is sad (again), and... well, you'll just have to wait and see  
> Also, if there's something else you folks want to see from us in regards to this fic please message/comment!
> 
> Message me on [tumblr](http://bkcybvrnes.tumblr.com)!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of response to the last chaper, I shouldn’t have posted it so late at night when I was barely thinking straight. I’m sorry I forgot to put a warning of some kind, and I will try to be more generous with warnings. In regards to Steve’s character, the direction of the fic, and integrity of the characters, yes it’s all a bit rocky, but I have discussed every tiny detail of what I have written so far with India. Anything that happens will end up being justified in some way or another, sometimes explicitly, and other times I will want to leave it up to you guys to implicitly develop your own interpretation. Unfortunately, since this has predominantly been more intrusive to Bucky’s POV so far, that means we don’t see much of Steve and his feelings in all of this. So then that raises the question: what does Steve feel and why did he do this? And if you get the answer to that it… Well, read on. I hope this chapter, which you deserve to know is just barely edited in terms of additions/changes after all this, will clear the air some. Steve may seem like a goddamn asshole for the things he’s done now and even a couple times later, but I assure you things will become clearer. I don’t know if what I’ve written will seem reasonable to you, but I hope I can convince you that the path being taken is kind of maybe the right one. Again, I’m sorry for any discomfort or however it is you reacted to the last chapter. I guess posting early is a... an apology gift? Welp.   
> Warning for alcohol use, and a nightmare.

Bucky’s got a substantial amount of alcohol in his system when he blurts out, “She just sucked his dick, you know? Like, I can’t blame her, because if I was in her position, hell, I know I would’ve done the same. But the two brats act all knowing about what’s goin’ on between Steve an’ me and then this happens!”

“I know what you mean man,” Clint hums, tilting his head back to catch the remaining few drops of his drink.

As he’d deliberated, Bucky didn’t go home that night. Instead he wound up at Clint’s doorstep and begged for any distraction from what was on his mind. Rather, what happened was that Natasha dropped by to stock up Clint’s embarrassingly distasteful stash, leaving him and Bucky to test out various concoctions while she worked the night. Basically, none of the events that night were about to let Bucky shove today’s happenings into the back of his mind.

“It’s not fair! I mean fine it happened, but when he sucked _my_ dick he didn’t let me return the favour! Not even a handjob; he just got himself off and that was it. Then he comes up to me the next morning and says ‘blank slate,’” Bucky mutters, scoffing bitterly.

He drops his head to look at Clint, who for some reason hasn’t said anything back yet. “What?” Bucky asks. Clint is staring at him like Bucky’s head is missing.

“Steve…. What do you mean he…? Bucky you piece of shit! You never told me!”

“Told you what?” Bucky slurs, pushing his hair back. It’s pesky, but he deals.

“Uh, that you and Steve are no longer ‘just friends’?”

Bucky shakes his head, stopping when the motion makes him feel dizzy. “No, we’re still just friends, trust me. He made that clear.”

“What happened? _When_?”

Bucky grins sheepishly, not bothering to hide his guilty pleasure at the memory. “My birthday. We drank a bit, but nothin’ like now. Just a bit and he offered and _man_ , did he deliver.”

“Too much,” Clint comments, putting a hand up in the air to stop Bucky from saying any more. “So what, you’re jealous?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches, but he mulls over the question some. Come to think of it, that would explain why he reacted the way he did today. “No.”

“Bullshit,” Clint calls him out, knocking Bucky on the side of his head with his empty glass. “You wouldn’t tell me all this if you weren’t. Especially the bit where you’re bitter about not bein’ able to fuck him back.”

“We didn’t fuck,” Bucky clarifies, even though he knows Clint is just being a little shit and mixing up the details. He doesn’t deny the rest of it, though.

Clint watches his friend closely. “So you’re saying if he let you _return the favour_ and _then_ told you the two of you are ‘just friends’ you wouldn’t be jealous that Sarah got to suck his dick instead of you?”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Now why is that question so hard to answer?

***

A few days after admitting what he didn’t mean to reveal to Clint (which, by the way, Clint won’t let him off the hook for, as was expected), Bucky comes home early to find Steve with earphones leaking the tune of whatever music he’s listening to while he sprays the coffee table and wipes it clean.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s not alone until he’s done getting every tiny speck off the table, and when he looks up to find Bucky, Steve’s heart jumps a tiny bit. “Oh,” he says, pulling out his earphones. “Hey. You’re back early.”

“I have to go see Tony,” Bucky says distractedly. “What are you doing?”

Steve blinks. “I’m cleaning.”

“I see that, but… Is this the first time…?”

Steve frowns. “Well, it’s nice to know all my efforts go to waste. You seriously don’t notice when every other week you walk in and the place smells and feels brand new?”

Bucky ducks his head, shamefully admitting to himself that even though a fresh scent when he opened the door might’ve tipped him off, it didn’t quite click.

“I’m sorry. You really shouldn’t though, I…”

“Buck, as tidy as the place is, I can’t live without cleaning a little. Take it as part of my pay, and if you’re really feeling bad you can join me,” Steve offers, tossing Bucky the rag he was cleaning the table with. Bucky grins sheepishly, but he nods his head and asks Steve what he wants to be done before getting to it.

Most of what needed to be done was already taken care of by the time Bucky came in, so what little was left got finished in twenty minutes. It would have been less, but Steve’s habit of cooking made the kitchen a bit of a mess to tackle.

“Don’t you have to leave?” Steve asks, scrubbing the grease off of the cooker. Bucky slings the rag over his shoulder and watches the muscles in Steve’s back as he works.

“Soon, yeah.”

Steve looks over his shoulder and gives Bucky a small smile that makes Bucky’s insides swell up, despite the aftertaste of bitterness. “You go, then. I’ll take care of the rest, alright?” Bucky barely opens his mouth to insist on staying, but Steve beats him to it. “There’s practically nothing left. Go.”

Bucky nods, saying a quiet thank you before grabbing what he needs and ducking out. Bucky’s been fast to learn there’s no possible way to hold an unreasonable grudge against Steve Rogers.

It’s been an hour or so since Bucky left when Steve’s phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Steve!” comes the response, only Steve doesn’t recognize the voice, nor the number that flashed on his screen.

“Uh sorry, who is this?”

“The one and only, Tony Stark. You know me, right? Buddies with Bruce Banner?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, mind irrationally jumping to the worst conclusion. “Is everything okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

Steve hesitates. “I don’t know, isn’t Bucky with you? And don’t take this the wrong way, but why else would you call me?”

“Uhhh, no he’s not. Wait, what date is it today?” Tony asks himself, and Steve hears the shuffling of papers followed by, “Oh. Right, he’s probably at…” Tony trails off. Steve half wonders if Tony forgot someone is on the other end of the phone.

“Probably at what?” Steve asks.

“Nothing,” Tony says quickly. “He’s probably on his way and just got stuck running an errand; I called him down to check how his arm’s doing and stuff. Don’t mind what I said before. Brain fart.”

“Uh,” Steve breathes, not really sure what he’s meant to be making sense of. “Okay. So why the call?”

“Right! I was going to call to ask where Bucky is because he’s not picking up his phone, but he’s probably just on his way. Don’t text and ride, you know?”

Steve’s frown deepens. That…

“Was good talking to you, Steve. Hope Bucky introduces you to me one day.”

“Okay.”

“Wonderful. Have a good day, Mr. Rogers.”

“You too,” Steve replies hesitantly.

When Bucky comes home, he mumbles a hello to Steve and shuffles into his room. Steve tries not to be overly concerned, but he’s not seen Bucky like this too often.

He knocks lightly on Bucky’s door and asks, “Buck? Do you want dinner? I’ve already eaten and I have to leave soon, but there’s stuff in the fridge.”

Steve’s worry deepens when he doesn’t get a response. He wonders with a spark of terror if it has something to do with what he did the other day at Bucky’s work. He didn’t… Steve never meant to hurt Bucky, but he thought they were… He thought Bucky was past that.

As much as he hated to admit it, Steve wasn’t, but that in part was why he let it happen. He needed to divert Bucky, because he can’t let this happen. It claws at his throat and keeps him up, the guilt of it pressing on him. But he can’t let it happen. Not when he knows how this will end, all because he can’t fucking change.

***

Bucky can’t breathe. His throat is gripped in a vice and his eyes are stinging, but no tears spill. He can feel rivulets of cold sweat trickling down his forehead, the small of his back, everywhere. The acid is rising in his throat, and all he wants to do is spit it out, shove the person before him onto the ground and beat them until they can’t speak anymore, until their words mean nothing and hold no truth.

He’s not doing this again.

This can’t be happening again.

***

Steve’s sitting in bed with his back against the headboard, pen between his teeth in thought as he ponders the words on the paper before him. He’ll sleep soon, he tells himself. Just a few more pages. An odd ball of anxiety settles itself in the pit of his stomach, and a second later he hears his door creak open.

“Bucky?”

In the dim light of his bedside lamp, it’s hard for Steve to decipher Bucky’s expression. What isn’t hard is noticing how closed Bucky looks. He’s hugging his arms close to his body, his head hung down between hunched shoulders.

“Buck, are you alright?”

Bucky hesitates before shaking his head. Steve closes his notebook and puts it away before turning back to his friend. It’s nearing on 3 a.m. and Bucky has no reason to be awake so late.

“Can’t sleep?”

Bucky shrugs.

“Bad dream?”

Pause. Nod.

Steve frowns in concern, watching Bucky’s body language for any give. It’s a subtle hint, but it clicks when Steve catches the way Bucky’s cradling his left arm, so carefully as if it’ll break.

“Come here,” Steve says, tipping his head to indicate the empty side of the bed. He doesn’t know what else to do, but whatever he says and does is without thinking, only by instinct and the need to make sure Bucky’s alright.

It takes another minute of Bucky looming in the doorway before he shuffles over and collapses onto the bed. Steve should hesitate before gently placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, urging him closer, but in reality he doesn’t think twice before doing it. Bucky lets out a short sigh, allowing Steve’s warmth to keep him rooted.

Bucky mumbles something that Steve doesn’t quite make out.

“What was that?” he asks, voice cautiously quiet.

It takes some straining, but Steve’s half sure that when Bucky repeats himself, he says, “I can’t lose any more. Not when I’ve already lost this.”

Steve’s supportive front falters drastically when he realizes Bucky means his arm. It’s hard to estimate how deep the pain runs when Bucky won’t tell him the truth; when he covers it up with effortless and increasingly ridiculous jokes. But Steve’s never heard Bucky’s voice sound so small.

Steve turns off the bedside lamp and lies down beside Bucky, tentatively wrapping his arms around him and breathing easy when Bucky doesn’t fight it. “It’s alright,” Steve whispers, running his fingers over the metal plates that make up Bucky’s left arm. He remembers Bucky telling him that there are sensors in it that pick up the slightest of touch, probably even the feather light drift of Steve’s fingers. It’s good, he thinks. It’s good to remind Bucky it’s there, that he can feel even if it’s not what it once was; something to ground him.

They lie like that for some time, no more words between them. Steve can feel the tension in Bucky’s body, the staggered, rough breaths that leave his lips.

“I can hear you thinking,” Steve tries. “Relax. It’s okay. You can go to sleep Bucky, nothing will hurt you.” Bucky lets out a short, unmistakably bitter laugh. Steve frowns and, as he has been doing so far, doesn’t think before he presses his lips to Bucky’s right shoulder. He almost regrets it, but he feels Bucky melt, tension suddenly draining from him.

“It’s just a few hours of sleep, Buck. Nothing will happen in that time.” Steve pauses, wondering fleetingly what he is and isn’t allowed to say. _Fuck it._ “I’m with you.”

Making sure to keep contact with Bucky’s left arm, Steve stays pressed up against him, registering every sign of anxiety and dissipating it with a touch, and sometimes another brief kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. Eventually Bucky’s awareness slips, his harsh breaths evening out until he goes slack, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. Steve thinks too hard for some time, about how Bucky might react to this in the morning, to having exposed this vulnerability to Steve. It takes a while, but Steve finally settles on the idea that they’ll deal with it when it comes. Right now, this is what Bucky needs, and that’s all that matters.

Bucky is all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: ass pics, Sharon wants Steve to write porn for her, and Mark the Lawyer takes Bucky on a fun date..!  
> If you have any concerns, comments, questions, or absolutely anything else, please leave them below! :*


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Had to take a break and write a bit in to fix some things and I was away for the weekend on a *surprise* trip to Jasper (aka fave place ever). Plus an ochem midterm and some English assignment. But yeah, back to the boys. 
> 
> Also, for those of you that are interested I have a slightly variated version of 15 up that you can read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5095301) that addresses a couple of the bumpy issues from before. It took me and India a while (longer for me) to decide that I'm okay with putting up the original 15 without the additions, but yeah for those of you that aren't comfortable with a subtle unsealed resolution I tried to give something that worked. It might not work and there's also the whole deal of continuing it into following chapters but this part of the story was never supposed to be a massive deal since there are other things at work, so. Take it as you will. 
> 
> Message from the co-author: hey India here! I never do this but just wanted to say hi and prove that I'm a real person who exists and also thank you guys for reading and leaving comments! They are very appreciated :) okay that's all have a nice day

Oh shit.

Bucky bounds out of his room, eyes wide and flitting across the apartment.

“Steve?” he calls, then hops over the sofa across the living area to Steve’s door. He knocks rapidly, repeating Steve’s name.

“Come in,” he hears, and as soon as Steve says it Bucky is looking rapidly around Steve’s room, eyes landing on his phone.

“Don’t look at your phone.”

Steve frowns and glances to where it’s sitting on his bedside, then raises an eyebrow at Bucky, and oh  _God_  Bucky knows what that means. They lunge for the phone at the same time, but Steve’s the first to get to it, a string of curses leaving Bucky’s mouth.

Steve opens his messages, and Bucky’s busy drowning in humiliation, his hands dragging down his face. He groans when Steve doesn’t say anything and stares at his screen.

There’s a maximum of five seconds of silence before Steve bursts into laughter, falling back on his bed.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky whines helplessly, tugging his hair and trying to grab at Steve’s phone, as if it’ll undo the damage.

Steve’s still laughing, gasping for breath when he finally says, “Th- that’s a picture… Of my  _ass_!”

Bucky’s cheeks immediately flush with colour. He shoves his hands into his pockets and grumbles to himself, trying to get someone to end his life right now.

Once Steve’s somewhat composed, he sits up and attempts to regard Bucky seriously, pursing his lips to fend off a smile. “Bucky,” he says slowly, “why did you send me a picture of my ass?”

Bucky mumbles.

“What?”

“I was trying to send it to Rebecca,” Bucky snaps, hoping Steve will let it go. Unfortunately, Steve is a little shit and never lets Bucky’s torture end.

“Your sister? Buck…?”

Bucky scowls at a spot on the floor. “She got me a camera for my birthday and I told her she shouldn’t have but she told me I could repay her with pictures of your supposedly cute butt, and since the idea crossed her mind she wouldn’t stop nagging me.”

Steve’s mouth twitches. “Last time you were much more certain about the cuteness of my butt.” He doesn’t give Bucky a chance to recover from his flailing to get a word in, picking up his phone to admire the picture again. “You know this is some really good photography. That’s a grand picture of my ass.”

“Better than the ones you took,” Bucky says for lack of anything better to say. Why, why,  _why_  does Bucky not just keep his mouth shut?

“Oh?” Steve says, quirking an eyebrow and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Speaking of, what did Nat do with those pictures? She never told me.”

“Are you telling me you just gave her pictures of our asses to her without knowing what she was going to do with them?” Bucky asks incredulously.

Steve shrugs.

“She put them in a frame,” Bucky mutters. Naturally, Steve wants to know what kind of frame, and, since Bucky goes red in the face, he wants to see it too.

“This is beautiful,” Steve says, tracing the silver hearts around the butts with admiration. “Our butts make a really cute couple.”

Bucky pushes Steve out of the way and takes the frame from him, shoving it back where it came from (a safe space in the back of his closet, thank you). He directs Steve out of his room and tells Steve to go do something productive so he can study, not acknowledging the dull, barely there burn of regret and want in his stomach from Steve’s words.

He goes back to his coursework, but only after a considerable amount of effort to stop thinking about Steve. Not so much the fact that he hates their whole platonic dance around each other despite the obvious pull between them (at least on Bucky’s part). More of it is from the anxiety that’s gnawing in the back of his brain at the memory of the previous night where he foolishly went and curled up beside Steve to quell his mind from the nightmare. Before Steve even woke up, Bucky slipped out and returned to his own room. It helped, sure, but that was more of a problem than anything, because there were few things that let Bucky sleep so peacefully after a night like that. Bucky can’t let himself rely on that, not if he and Steve are to remain whatever it is that they are. For his own sake, Bucky can’t let that happen again.

***

 **Gru:**   _You doing okay today?_

Bucky looks at the text. He takes a deep breath and thinks about how to reply, how he could say no, or even thank you, but he does neither.

**Bucky Barnes:** _live by th words of jean jacques rousseau_

He chews his lower lip, hoping that by throwing Steve’s ‘blank slate’ thing back at him doesn’t come off as too standoffish. Yeah, he needs to back off from Steve a bit to breathe and stop himself from doing anything foolish, but that doesn’t mean he wants to lose Steve altogether.

**Gru:** _Roger that._

***

Steve only teaches two classes today, so things are pretty slow. There are a few meets coming up, but none that requires any heavy paperwork or planning. He doesn’t have to deal with any students, since no one “grazed their knee” or broke their neck trying to watch him walk away from them (in all seriousness though, no injuries).

He’s using his spare time leisurely, nose buried in his notebook as he scribbles away having been suddenly inspired by the unusual, eerie calm of an empty gym hall. Give Steve the name of one person that doesn’t scream ‘POST APOCALYTIC ZOMBIE WARZONE’ to, and he will set them straight until they’re scared shitless, convinced they will die the next time they set foot in the damned thing.

“What’s that?”

Steve slams his notebook shut reflexively, his head snapping up just in time to catch the smirk on Sharon’s lips. Steve feels the tips of his ears getting warm, but he refuses to let it go any further.

“Oooh, now you’ve gone and done it Rogers. Spill. What’s the juicy content in there?”

“Nothing,” Steve mumbles, leaning over to put the book into his sports bag.

“Nothing like love letters? Or wait,” Sharon says, followed by a sharp gasp. “Steve, my  _God_ are you writing porn?”

Steve narrows his eyes and turns his back to her, pretending to check his email on the computer. “No.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that,” Sharon challenges, so Steve does just that, turning his head only to deny her again. “That’s a shame,” Sharon sighs, hopping onto an empty spot on Steve’s desk that isn’t infested by Minions. “A hot guy like you writing hot smut? I’d take that over 50 Shades any day.”

Steve scoffs and gives up faking being preoccupied by his empty inbox, swivelling the chair to level her with a disgusted expression. “You should take  _anything_ over 50 Shades any day. That’s terrible mommy porn that isn’t even real BDSM and shouldn’t exist in anyone’s hands. I could write you something infinitely better than that.”

“My, is that an offer?” It seems Sharon is only satisfied when Steve finally blushes a bit, laughing her way out of the office. “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook, Rogers. One steamy paper on my desk by noon on Friday, understood?”

Steve groans to himself and drops his head into his hands. If Sharon wants a service like that, Steve refuses to do it without paying for the mental damage he’ll have to endure.

***

Mark the Lawyer seems like the first decent blind date Bucky’s been on in a while. Maybe Natasha’s stash of people to hoard off on him isn’t so bad.

At least that’s what he thinks for the first half an hour when they’re getting to know each other while eating dinner. It’s all fun and games until you get a lawyer talking about their job, then they just don’t shut up telling you about this case, that co-worker, this rival law firm that has ‘no fucking clue how to handle the DEA,’ and a billion other things that Bucky couldn’t care less about.

He’s just about ready to give up and pull some sort of excuse to leave when Mark throws him a mischievous look. Bucky has to give Natasha props for picking out the hot guys, because somehow Mark pulls the expression off well enough to pique Bucky’s previously deflated interest.

“What say you and I head somewhere a little… unorthodox?” Mark drawls in a way that reminds Bucky of Steve, but ten times less effective. Forcing himself to stop letting Steve interrupt his thoughts on a blind date with someone who could potentially have potential (yes, Bucky believes that’s a valid way to describe someone), Bucky agrees without thinking twice.

That’s how they end up at The Peacock nightclub, or in other words, Steve’s workplace. Just when Bucky thought he finally found a candidate to keep his mind off of Steve while also having a decent date.

Bucky has a hard time not screaming running. Would this be considered stooping to Steve's level for payback? “What are we doing here?”

Mark gives him this look like he thinks Bucky is cute and innocent, which,  _no_. “Sometimes lawyers gotta loosen up too,” he explains, his voice a bad attempt at a low purr. Bucky’s suddenly starting to regret letting Steve move in with him, because it’s slowly ruining every possible thing he could ever enjoy about anyone else.

“Isn’t this the type of joint you’d want to avoid?” Bucky asks, stalling as much as he can. They took a taxi here, and even though it’s left now, Bucky’s more than willing to call up another one just to go home.

Mark licks his lips and gives Bucky a sly grin and, oh,  _that_ works. “Not tonight.”

With that, Mark leads a reluctant Bucky into the club, and Bucky can only pray that Steve won’t pop up somewhere, even though he knows very well that Steve is working tonight.

It’s kind of awkward, the transition from supposedly formal rambling about himself to how Mark now wants to grind against Bucky from behind, his hips moving to the beat of the music. Mark seems to be enjoying it after a couple drinks (maybe a little too much for Bucky’s liking), but Bucky’s struggling to see the fun in it.

He grabs a glass of scotch in hopes of blurring his nagging conscience, repeatedly bringing back the thought that Steve is going to show up at some point. Mark grudgingly follows behind Bucky and eventually they settle at a table somewhere off the side of the main floor.

“Havin’ a good time?” Mark asks, and Bucky nods with a sheepish smile. White lies to people he hardly knows don’t hurt.

Since Bucky’s being such sore company and the main stage is filling up, Mark’s attention strays, and so does Bucky’s, though in a different direction to his date.

Steve is three or so tables away, outright flirting with a customer until he tucks a twenty into his waistband and he gives her this devilish grin. Even if he tried, Bucky couldn’t miss Steve. It’d take a lot of effort to try and pretend like he didn’t immediately recognize the person he lived with. No, Bucky can’t miss Steve, but what he could do is look away and pretend he doesn’t, but it’s hard to tear his eyes away when Steve starts smiling coyly, dancing loosely before moving closer to settle on the customer’s lap. He blames it on the booze.

Bucky’s breath catches, and he must be pretty obvious, because Mark nudges his foot under the table, and Bucky is all too slow to tear his gaze from his friend. Mark follows his line of vision and smirks when he notices what Bucky was looking at.

“You want some of that, honey?” Mark asks, getting up from his seat and making his way to Bucky.

Bucky falters. Yes, he does, but not from The Lawyer.

Bucky’s eyes stray to Steve again, and he just about saves himself from biting his tongue when he notices Steve’s looking right back at him. Steve shoots him a playful grin, not breaking the eye contact before pointedly rolling his hips against his customer. He’s probably doing more than he would typically deem necessary, Bucky suspects, but then again Bucky has no idea what the job entails or what Steve gets paid for, and he doesn’t ever mean to ask.

“James,” Mark whines, obviously upset by the lack of attention. He straddles Bucky’s lap and grins down at him, all too comfortable for someone who has yet to lay his lips on Bucky. “Stop looking at the stripper. God, he’s not even doin’ a good job.” Mark’s words are kind of slurring together, so Bucky has no doubt that he’s too drunk to even realize that Steve is doing a fucking fantastic job, even for the voyeurs who aren’t getting it first hand. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

The line startles a laugh out of Bucky, and Mark frowns before leaning down and sealing his lips against Bucky’s. “Mmm, been wanting to kiss those lips since I saw you walk into the restaurant. You know you look so good.”

Bucky grins and languidly kisses him back some, all too aware that there’s every chance that Steve’s watching them right now. It’s not too enjoyable, but the way Mark tries to mimic Steve, or one up him, is amusing enough to keep Bucky grinning into Mark’s shoulder, letting Mark mistake him for the blushing prude type.

He can’t help that he keeps looking back to Steve from time to time, and that whenever Steve catches his eye and sends him a knowing smile, preening under his gaze, Bucky lets out a breathless swear. It's a dangerous game given what's been going on the past few weeks, but he can't help it. Like he said before: alcohol. 

“What the fuck?” Mark whines. “You keep looking at that guy. Am I not good enough?” He doesn’t give Bucky a second to reply before getting up and stalking over to where Steve is finishing up. Steve and Mark exchange a short conversation, in which Steve is pulling off that flirtatious edge and making Mark stutter, and eventually they end up back at the table Mark and Bucky were sharing.

Bucky’s mouth goes dry. There’s so much of Steve’s skin on show in his skimpy outfit, and it’s a little ridiculous with the leather and all, but it’s still  _Steve_.

“I hear you’ve been a little interested in my performance,” Steve purrs, and  _oh_ , that hits the spot. Bucky swallows, shifting in his seat. Steve  _knows_  what he’s doing. This isn’t fair, not after all the things they’ve gone through to decide they can only be friends, and that too not even with benefits.  _Benefits_.

Bucky clears his throat and replies, “Not at all. It’s interesting, sure, but my  _date_  here was convinced he could show me a better time.”

Steve hums, eyes roaming casually over Bucky. It makes him feel naked, and he would be more worried about the spark in Steve’s eyes if Bucky and everyone else in the club (including Mark) wasn't giving Steve the exact same look. Instead of offering to show Bucky a good time – which they both know would be a mistake – Steve turns to Mark. “What are you looking for tonight, darlin’?” Bucky’s mouth twitches, but he holds back a smile.

Mark sizes Steve up and says with a stiff upper lip, “Teach me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, a laugh escaping his lips. “Oh, I don’t know if you can afford a lesson from me.”

Mark throws a glance back at Bucky, then looks back to Steve. “I have a good day job, I think I can manage. What’s your name?”

Bucky’s eyes bulge, but he’s quick to remember that strippers have stage names.

“Biggy Rekt,” Steve replies with ease, and Bucky’s eyes immediately snap up to Steve’s. Steve, who’s sporting a shit-eating grin, shakes his head. “I’m kidding, it’s Johnny.”

Mark glances down the front of Steve’s body. “Well, even if it was, it’s not untrue,” he remarks. Steve raises an eyebrow, tentatively reaching out to tip Mark’s chin up so he’s not staring at Steve’s junk anymore.

“Oh honey, I’m not –”

“You’re  _not_?” Mark says in disbelief. He looks back down, and yeah no, that’s just plain ‘ol unexcited Johnny. “Holy  _shit._  Maybe your name  _should_  be Biggy Rekt.”

Steve tips his head back in a laugh, and it’s not a genuine one, but the type that seduces people with the length of his neck and gets him more money for the night. It works, too, because Mark reaches blindly for his wallet and is about to lend Steve some cash after a quick, “Please teach me,” before Bucky grabs his wrist and stops him.

Steve bites back a smile. “Mark, take a seat.” Bucky actually believes Steve’s about to grind up on his date right in front of him, but as soon as Mark’s sat down, Steve works his way over to Bucky and drags him out of his seat by his collar (and Bucky really, really has to forget that that ever happened). As soon as they’re out of earshot, Mark looking forlorn, Steve turns to Bucky with a stern look on his face and leaning into Bucky’s personal space. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to pay you a visit,” Bucky jokes, but it doesn’t go over well. It's ironic that Steve's feeling unnerved having him there when Steve pulled off that pretty unsavoury stunt at Nordstrom. “Mark the… He wanted to loosen up and brought us here.”

Steve relaxes some at that, leaning back to give Bucky some breathing space. He glances over at Mark who’s making grabby hands in Steve’s general direction and lets out a huffed laugh. “He needs to go home.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, watching Steve watch Mark. Bucky;s doing surprisingly well at keeping his eyes above Steve’s neck for the first time this night.

“Take him home,” Steve suggests, and Bucky nods. “Not ou- your apartment. Obviously. I mean unless you - ”

Bucky shivers. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Steve gives Bucky a strange look, then shakes his head and immediately slips back into character. “You should be off, sweetie. This place isn’t made for boys like you.” It’s so not-Steve that Bucky can’t help the laugh that escapes him, but the fact that it’s a bashful one where he ducks his head… well. It’s dark. Steve won’t know the difference.

“See you later,” Bucky mutters, and Steve’s lips quirk into a quick smile before he winks and leaves the scene. “Alright,” Bucky mutters to himself. “Time to deal with this mess.”

Bucky manages to grab Mark’s wallet from his back pocket in a false attempt to grope him and leads them outside, reading the address from his driver’s licence to the cab driver before handing it back. He goes home in a separate taxi.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, etc, or a message on my tumblr (bkcybvrnes) is very much welcome.  
> Up next: a peaceful lunch, steve mishearing lyrics, cilantro debates, and more~
> 
> !! By the way !! I'm looking to title this series (I will add a few shorter works to this collection as time goes on) and India and I haven't quite decided on a name. If you have any ideas, please leave them below! :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-) Feelin pretty rad. You guys are so awesome and I'm so so thankful for you all. Midterms are finally done and I finished writing a gay Zeus fic that I get to hand in for an actual grade in university. Wow. Updates are now on Wednesdays if you guys haven't picked up on that (although if you prefer Fridays let me know). Oh, and we still need a good name for the fic series, so if you have any ideas leave suggestions!  
> -G
> 
> heyo friends thanks for reading and being cool. Don't blame G for all the bad things that happen to buck and Steve cause it's actually me who decides how they end up suffering lol  
> -India

Later that week, Steve drags Bucky out on his lunch break to make sure he’s actually fed something. Well, less so drags him more than texts him and threatens Bucky that if he doesn’t show up for lunch at Potbelly then Steve will subject him to the pain of watching every Minion containing movie and short-film. Steve has that kind of power; he could make it happen, and that’s why Bucky shows up five minutes early.

It doesn’t take Bucky more than two seconds to scan the room and find Steve hunched over, writing rapidly into one of his more worn out moleskin notebooks. He’s already got his food with him, though he’s not eating yet, so Bucky skips saying hi and goes to the counter to order his own sandwich.

Thankfully things have cleared up between them, at least to the extent that they’re able to get back into normal conversation with the regular teasing lilt. In the end, Bucky’s just glad Steve managed to recognize that what happened had some effect. He’s not going to berate Steve for it though, because he needs to move past it, and so does Steve. Being civil is the easiest way to do that. And if Bucky is totally honest, he wants what they had back without any added complications.

When he’s about to pay, Bucky notices the customer behind him staring with scrutiny at Bucky’s left hand. The guy looks up, eyes widening slightly when he sees that Bucky is looking right back at him.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, looking at the man and sizing him up. The guy narrows his eyes and looks back down to Bucky’s arm, and is about to say something when Bucky beats him to it. “You want it up your ass?” he asks, making his fingers vibrate (a nice little feature Tony added without Bucky having asked, never being mentioned between the two of them except for in passing jokes). The guy clamps his mouth shut and looks away, scowling at the wooden counter.

Yeah, so Bucky’s day hasn’t exactly been ideal and he’s not ready to greet any criticizing stranger with enthusiasm. It hasn’t been the worst either, but the day began with that feeling of disconnection between his arm and body again, and the irritation it brought lasted throughout the day, only adding to the commotion one particularly dramatic couple created in store. It wasn’t fair that two people took up so much of his time and made him lose multiple other potential sales, Sarah beating him to every other client. It ended with the couple deciding, “Well maybe we shouldn’t get married, then!”

Despite it all, Bucky’s happy to have his break away from the store, and even more glad to be spending it with Steve.

“Hey,” he says, slipping into the seat across from Steve. Steve’s head snaps up and he smiles tightly, pointedly shutting his notebook and putting it aside. Bucky wants to tell Steve he doesn’t have to stop writing and that he didn’t mean to interrupt, but Steve beams at him, and suddenly the whole day seems inconsequential. He reminds himself that it’s dangerous to indulge, but he doesn’t let that stop him from smiling back at Steve, letting the wordless interaction ease him out of his mood.

“How are you?” Steve asks.

Bucky laughs breathily, unwrapping his sandwich and staring at his hands when he replies, “Much better than I was earlier, thanks to you.” Oh. Bucky glances back up at Steve, whose eyes are a little wider, cheeks a little bit pinker. “I – It’s been a rough day. It’s good to see a friendly face,” Bucky says in explanation. Steve laughs warmly and nods, both of them brushing past the slip up.

“Well, I’m glad I could help. What happened?”

Bucky groans. “Don’t ask, please. I just need to make sure I actually make some sales when I get back to make the week. How about you? How’s your day so far?”

“Good,” Steve says, picking up his coffee and watching Bucky with warmth spreading through his chest. He’d add that the whole ‘thanks to you’ bit went both ways, but Steve knows better. “It’s been pretty average, and in any high school, average passes as a blessing.”

They pass their lunch half in companionable silence, half in Steve talking about his students and Sharon. Bucky knows it’s stupid to feel an ounce of jealousy for various reasons, most pointing to recent events, but he can’t help it.

“Sharon sounds like a fun person,” he says offhandedly, not meaning to sound bitter at all, but apparently it comes across that way, because Steve gives him a weird contemplative look.

“She’s pretty fun, yeah,” Steve says, not adding the ‘not as fun as you, though’ to the end. He’s found himself cutting his sentences short around Bucky a whole lot more than he’s ever done with anyone before.

It’s nearing the end of both of their breaks when Steve complains, “What’s with music these days?” Bucky raises an eyebrow in question. “I don’t know, just. Some of the shit these guys play… Some of it isn’t even good and then there’s just some songs with really fucking bizarre lyrics.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Like, ‘I wanna take shits with somebody’? Who the fuck ev- Bucky are you alright?”

Bucky, for one, is not alright. He feels like he’s going to cough up a lung trying to get the coffee out of his windpipe after having taken it down the wrong way. “Steve what did you just say?”

“What?”

“Steve…” Bucky says, staring at him in disbelief. He leans forward, hoping no one around them heard Steve. “Steve – ignoring the fact that you sound like an angry old man for the time being – the song goes ‘I wanna take shots with somebody’. Not… Oh my God.”

Steve’s expression drops into something vaguely resembling horror, and Bucky has to stifle his laugh.

“Oh,” Steve says in the tiniest voice. His cheeks flush pink, the blush going all the way under the collar of his shirt.

Bucky laughs and nudges his knee against Steve’s under the table (and if he doesn’t move away after doing so, that’s just pure coincidence). “It’s fine, gosh. Don’t explode on me, I need someone to cook for me still.”

“That’s all I’m good for, huh?” Steve mutters.

“Of course, all good housewives do the cooking, isn’t that right?”

Steve narrows his eyes and points at Bucky. “No more home cooked food for a week.”

Bucky’s teasing smile drops. “No, no, no. Steve please, I could handle it before, but I can’t even imagine living without your cooking now, please.”

“You earned it. Cook for yourself.”

Bucky hates to admit it, but he straight up whimpers with despair.

***

“Did you hear about Mr. Rogers?”

Steve’s ears suddenly perk up, and in the back of his head he vaguely thinks himself alike to a dog. There’s about five minutes before his next class starts, so he’s trying to spend as much time as he can away from the little shits.

“No, what about him?”

“Gavin saw him the other day outside of school.”

Steve freezes rigid, then remembers that these kids would never be admitted into the club he works at and loosens up some.

“So?”

“He was having lunch. With a _guy_. Long hair in a ponytail, looked kinda hipster.”

Steve’s mouth falls open slowly as he listens. He knows he shouldn’t, but if there are rumours about Mr. Rogers dating someone, well…

“Do you think he’s,” someone says, lowering their voice to a stage whisper that still rings loud and clear, “ _gay?_ ” Steve scrunches his nose at the misidentification, but he can’t exactly blame them; it’s not like they know.

Steve checks the time. He still has a couple of minutes, so he calls Bucky.

“Yep?”

“Hey, Buck. Sorry to bother you, but – ”

“Hey, it’s fine I’m just wasting time anyway. What’s up?”

“I think my students think we’re dating.”

There’s a pause on the other end, then Bucky replies, “Well they wouldn’t be the first.”

“Bucky!” Steve says, too exasperated to find a comeback. He can’t help the smile he’s wearing, nor the fact that his cheeks are glowing red. Gosh, Steve needs to pull it together; they’re not _like_ this. He made that clear even to himself. He makes the mistake of glancing up out of his window that looks out across the gym floor where the students are chatting, and realizes with mortification that the gossip group is watching him get all flustered. “Oh my God Buck,” he groans, turning his back to the window. “They can see me talking to you right now, I’m just digging my own grave here.”

“I get you that hot, do I?” Bucky replies playfully. Steve rolls his eyes. This is easier though: the more flirtatious, obvious lines they throw as opposed to the slightly more intimate ones. This has been their dynamic since day one.

“No, you jerk. Listen, I have class in like,” he pauses, checking the time, “one minute. I gotta go.”

“Be sure to send the kids my good wishes,” Bucky says.

“I will do no such thing.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Buck, I’m not going to fuel some stupid rumour!”

“Yeah, yeah, now go do your job before you get fired.”

Steve huffs, hanging up and putting his phone back into his desk drawer. So if he’s a little peppier that class and his smiles are a little more haphazard, it’s just because… Well, unfortunately Steve doesn’t have an excuse this time, but the ball of anxiety that would usually drag him down about this kind of realization doesn’t appear, and Steve doesn’t want to read into that. For the time being he’s just happy, and Steve can live with that.

***

Steve pulls out a bag from the fridge and sniffs it, disapproval marring his face.

“Bucky I thought I asked you to get cilantro!”

Bucky pops his head out from his room where he’s studying, eyebrows drawn together. “What do you mean? Man that stripping is getting to your head because you’re holding it right in your hand.”

Steve narrows his eyes but ignores the comment. He examines the ‘cilantro’. “This is parsley.”

“It’s fuckin’ cilantro, Steve. The sign said so.”

“Yeah well the sign was wrong.”

“How can the sign be wrong?”

“I don’t know, but I know this isn’t cilantro.”

“Steve, it’s cilantro.”

“Here, come here,” Steve commands, and Bucky grudgingly stalks into the kitchen. “Smell it. Parsley.”

“Steve I don’t know the fucking difference.”

“Well maybe you should learn!” Steve says, waving the parsley in Bucky’s face, droplets of water shaking off and making him sputter. “You know what? I’m kicking you out. Get outta here, Buck. Come back when you learn the difference.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs. “You can’t throw me out; it’s my place.”

“You’d be surprised what I can do,” Steve mutters wielding the parsley like he’s trying to threaten Bucky with it. What’s he going to do, shove it down Bucky’s throat?

“Whatever, Steve. It’s cilantro, okay? Get over it.”

“It’s fucking parsley! God, I said I’d do the grocery shopping. This is why you don’t do it, okay? Just let me!”

Bucky huffs, leaning his hip against the counter and watching as Steve grumbles to himself, settling for the parsley for tonight’s meal (because he had to give up his threat; even Steve can’t live off of take out all week) despite his quarrels. “Cilantro,” he mutters to himself, escaping Steve’s wrath by pushing off from the counter and retreating to his room.

“You don’t know the difference, Buck! You can’t call the shots! It’s fuckin’ parsley!” Steve scowls at the pungent, inadequate herb and chops it harshly, hoping that the plant is enjoying being slaughtered. “Cilantro my ass,” Steve mumbles. Bucky is never, _ever_ doing grocery runs on his own again.

***

Steve has grown into the role of a mother hen, Bucky is sure of it. Every day when Bucky works over a lunch hour, he’ll text to make sure Bucky has food, and if he claims he’ll get something from work during his break, Steve will text him at least ten times in a row to make sure Bucky holds true to his word. And on the other days, he’ll straight up walk in with a bag of food and slide it across the counter.

However, today’s visit is just a visit. Bucky has promised he’s eaten, and Steve squinted at him the first five minutes he was in the store until he was satisfied that Bucky was telling the truth.

“So, Mr. Barnes, what would you suggest I buy today?”

Bucky’s eye twitches, but he tilts his chin up and accepts the challenge. “Well, sir, you want something to accentuate the allure of that _shocking_ blue in your eyes, so perhaps a pair of Jan Leslie octopus cufflinks would be fitting.”

Steve, though the glint in his eye falters, smiles sweetly. “Please, do show me.”

Bucky fends off the flutter in his stomach and makes his way around the displays, finding the cufflinks he was talking about. “For a mere three hundred and ninety five dollars, would you believe?”

“Oh that simply won’t do,” Steve says, shaking his head with distaste. “Either find me something more suited to me, or something more expensive.”

“Very well sir, then I know just the choice for you.”

Steve follows Bucky a few steps around the counter, watching with amusement as Bucky draws out another pair of cufflinks. “Now unfortunately these are on the more charitably priced side of our selection, but I just _know_ these Paul Smith toy soldier cufflinks are your type.”

Steve is honestly trying to keep up with the game here, but Bucky’s will power seems a lot stronger. He’s using his salesman spiel so well that Steve is actually considering buying these because hey, they’d match his office. “And these come to..?”

“One fifty, sir,” Bucky says, pointedly letting the last word drip off his tongue like honey.

Steve hums approvingly, deciding that his hard earned money isn’t worth the splurge. They spend some time going back and forth between a pair of cufflinks that look like old golfers, and then Bucky shows him a David Yurman skull ring that, in all honesty, looks pretty cool. Steve isn’t so sure he could pull it off, though.

The thing Bucky hates the most about Nordstrom on some days is that they’re obligated to stick to a client once they’ve received one. For commission purposes this is the best way to pull out a week’s pay, but with shitty customers it’s enough to make Bucky want to rip his hair out. Today it’s the part of his job that he loves the most, because he gets to waste a shitload of time with Steve mocking the merchandise in a way that, to outsiders, would seem like they’re appreciating it. Thankfully old women shopping around can’t read through their sarcasm.

“What do you say, Buck,” Steve says quietly, “Think I could pull of a suit jacket and turn some heads? Maybe even turn someone on?”

Bucky forces a tight-lipped smile and tries to pretend Steve isn’t doing that _thing_ where they flirt insufferably. “Not sure you’d want the interest of these old gals, but let’s go find out.”

After some fuss and a lot of deliberation, Steve goes into fitting to test out a Canali wool suit. When he comes out, Bucky realizes how bad an idea this was.

“Man,” Steve says, admiring the fitting of the suit and tugging at the sleeves, feeling slightly out of sorts. “I need a sugar daddy to pay for all of this.”

Because Bucky didn’t anticipate a short circuit in his brain from how well fitted the suit looks with that shoulder to waist ratio, he doesn’t think before declaring, “I get 20% off all the merchandise; I could do it.”

Steve gapes, both of their facades dropping. His mouth twists into a grin that has Bucky clenching his fists, his stomach tossing about. “Are you saying you’ll be my sugar daddy?”

Someone clears their throat behind them, and Bucky snaps his head to find his supervisor giving him the evil eye. He flushes red and turns back to Steve. “You’ve been here for like two hours and are going to leave with nothing. I should probably get back to work.”

Steve, the bastard having the decency to at least look a little sheepish, ducks back into the fitting rooms to change out of the suit, much to the relief of Bucky’s sanity.

When Steve’s out, Bucky heads back to the jewellery counter, not exactly expecting Steve to follow, which is why he startles when he rounds the counter to find Steve leaning his elbows against the glass, giving Bucky a coy smile.

“So you’ll be my sugar daddy then, right?” Steve teases, and he’s got this beautiful, deadly smile that’s making Bucky turn beet red despite his efforts. Steve laughs, not bothering to wait for an answer when he winks and takes his leave.

Once Steve is out of sight, Bucky groans, dropping his head into his hands. He’s vaguely sure that’s India’s laughter he can hear, but right now Bucky isn’t up to dealing with that.

***

Ever since that visit, none of Bucky’s co-workers have set him up on any more blind dates, so his stream is cut down to Natasha’s list. Bucky should probably be thankful for that, but he’s not exactly sure.

***

“Bucky, fix me a coffee. I need it.”

Bucky chews on the cap of his pen lid and kicks his feet off the coffee table, heading to the kitchen. “You’re home early,” he comments.

Steve groans from his bedroom, the sound reaching the kitchen with ease. “I had a private job, a–a bachelorette party. Managed to pull a replacement.”

“Too tiring?” Bucky asks having set the coffee on, now standing in Steve’s doorway.

Steve lifts his head from where he’s sprawled on the bed, and the look on his face is pitiful. He winces before speaking. “Sharon was there.”

“Oh my God.” Bucky is really trying not to laugh, he promises. But his efforts aren’t the best. Steve throws a pillow at Bucky. “Sharon as in work Sharon? Sharon _Carter_?”

Steve glares at Bucky. “You will never, _ever_ bring this up again. Understood?”

“Fine, but right now I’m not letting you off the hook. What happened?”

Steve shoves his face back into the bedding, but Bucky can still make out his mumbling to be something like: “I showed up, was half undressed and getting pretty relaxed, and then I heard someone shout ‘Hey guys! Sorry I’m late!’ and you can bet your ass it was Sharon. I went bright fucking red.” (Bucky doesn’t have to think too hard to imagine the colour extending beyond his neck) “Clambered for my clothes and apologized, called in a favour from one of my co-workers at the place, and got it dealt with.”

“You didn’t speak to Sharon?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Bucky shrugs then realizes Steve can’t see him. “Whatever you think is best.”

Steve lifts his head. “Do you think I’m gonna get fired, Buck?” The look on his face is one of genuine fear. Bucky resists the urge to sit down on the bed to give Steve some physical reassurance.

“No. I think Sharon’s cooler than that. You should probably talk to her about it outside of school if you want to make sure of it.”

Steve groans. “I need some good food.”

“Indian?” Bucky asks, grinning when Steve nods with a pathetic pout.

Bucky leaves Steve to his grief, but as soon as he buzzes the delivery person up, he drags Steve out of bed.

“Got an idea,” he explains, quickly rambling off an idea he thought out in the twenty or so minutes they had.

Before the delivery person even hands over their food, Bucky and Steve are pouting and posing exaggeratedly, like models on steroids.

“We’re not your conventional hot bi guys living together and totally not fucking because of personal boundaries,” Bucky starts, bracing one hand against Steve’s shoulder as he kicks one leg up behind him, pretending to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek, followed by Steve looking scandalized.

“We’re… _Bucky and Steve_ ,” Steve finishes off, the two of them striking a final pose as the delivery person watches with the utmost confusion.

“Uh… $35.40?” they utter.

Steve shoves Bucky out of the way and fishes in his back pocket for his wallet, handing over excess cash for the pain they were forced to endure. “Keep the change, buddy. Thanks!”

“… Sure.”

“That was a dud,” Steve mutters disappointedly when they’re alone.

Bucky nods determinedly. “Then we’ll do better next time.”

“What was that about…” Steve starts to ask, then thinks better of it. Bucky doesn’t bother acknowledging it and the two of them slide onto the couch, turning on Netflix to watch some old alien conspiracy show Bucky has started about a mass abduction where all of the abductees were suddenly returned to earth with new abilities.

“I’m gonna start thinking of ideas,” Bucky mumbles through the introduction. “We’ll have some solid performances; no more of this last minute bullshit. Full on productions.”

“Lights and everything?” Steve asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh yeah. You bet.”

***

The next time they order in, Bucky forgot to think of ideas, so Steve turns to the delivery girl and smiles brightly at her, then scowls at Bucky. “Bucky,” he says in the most horrible attempt at a southern accent, “I’m leaving you for this here delivery girl because you are a terrible lover.”

It would’ve held up better if both Bucky and the delivery girl didn’t burst into laughter, mocking Steve’s terrible accent.

“Fuck you both. This one’s on you, Bucky,” Steve mumbles, letting Bucky take the charge for their dinner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Octopus cufflinks](http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/jan-leslie-octopus-cuff-links/4011249?origin=category-personalizedsort&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=&resultback=4246)   
>  [Toy soldier cufflinks](http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/4069412?origin=category-personalizedsort&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=&resultback=1966)   
>  [Golfer cufflinks](http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/jan-leslie-argyle-golfer-cuff-links/4011293?origin=category-personalizedsort&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=&resultback=3784)   
>  [Awesome ring](http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/david-yurman-waves-large-skull-ring-with-black-diamonds/3661597?origin=category-personalizedsort&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=&resultback=5344)   
>  [Suit](http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/canali-classic-fit-wool-suit-free-next-day-shipping/3261442?origin=category-personalizedsort&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=&resultback=1788)
> 
> The sugar daddy scene is literally... In the whole plan it's one of my favourite things I looked forward to it since the first day we had the full outline and I was rushing my writing just to get to it.   
> Also kudos to my dad for inspiring the scene by not buying cilantro that one time. I still am 1000% sure it was parsley, I don't care what you have to say about the matter (but I still love you).   
> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu)
> 
> Up next: sports day, late night ice cream runs, and... oh shit.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end of the chapter (for those of you that wish to avoid potential spoilers) 
> 
> G: Heyyy sorry this is late it's been a busy coupla nights! Happy Diwali!! By the time I post this it will be totally over in my timezone... Oops. Hope you lot are having a good week :-) I'm in a bit of a writing slump rn though ew. 
> 
> India: -insert poop joke here-

Harvest Collegiate High School hosts a sports day once every year, somewhere between spring and summer when the weather is endurable enough to neither freeze your ass off, nor pass out from dehydration due to the unrelenting heat. Naturally, most of the staff, Steve included, have to partake in it to keep watchful eyes on wandering kids, who have no regard for how hard it is to do their job.

Bucky didn’t expect to be invited to watch; he didn’t even know he _could_ the multiple times Steve complained about it, but it was in passing that Steve said, “You can come along if you want. If you’re free, I mean. You don’t have to do anything.”

So here Bucky is, looking out on a grassy field filled with predominantly uneager bodies racing with hormones. There are a few parent volunteers dotted around too, and others just there to embarrass their kids, or provide food and drinks. There’s nothing to enjoy about this really, but Bucky thought he might be able to sneak into Steve’s office and see the monstrosity of his Minion shrine, not realizing the event is off campus.

On the upside, Steve looks _incredible_. It’s not that far into the thing, so he’s hardly sweating, only giving off some sort of ridiculously perfect glow that makes Bucky want to roll his eyes. Of course Steve looks fabulous at all times. His skin tight shirt is a sight to see, and since nothing is all that interesting, besides the students wanting to rip out each other’s hair in three-legged races, Bucky spends most of his time appreciating Steve’s body. It’s a fucking shame he can’t get on that.

Bucky, however, isn’t the only one staring. On the occasion that he actually tears his eyes off of Steve grinning like a dork when the kids in their freshman year look accomplished and sheepishly give him a high five, Bucky notices that a fair amount of the parents, both moms and dads alike, are getting an eyeful too. Bucky feels a familiar twist of jealousy in his gut, but quickly deals with that. He and Steve aren’t like that; he _knows_ this. Besides, it’s not like any of these parents will be able to saunter up to Steve and replace Bucky. Not that they’d want to take Bucky’s place as a painfully at-arms-length platonic friend.

At one point, Steve passes off to Sharon and jogs over to Bucky. Bucky has to look away to not stare at a certain part of Steve’s anatomy happily bouncing around (though Bucky swears some of the mothers have no shame).

“Hey,” Steve says, smile lighting up his whole face. Bucky has a sudden urge to punch him. Right in the nose.

“Hi.”

“You came,” Steve observes, pauses a beat before adding, “That’s good. Thanks.”

Bucky shrugs and smiles lopsidedly as Steve drops down to sit beside Bucky on the grass. “It’s a day out of the apartment, and just another reason to procrastinate, isn’t it?”

“You have work to do?” Steve asks, not trying to mask his slight concern.

“Nah, nothing that can’t wait. Besides, it’s worth it to see these parents ogle you.”

“Damn,” Steve mutters, glancing over to look at the parents that are hovering about the area, grimacing when he notes their not so subtle haste to look away. “Whatever. It’s not like I’m not used to preening under peoples’ gaze, although I _do_ tend to have less clothes on.”

“Somehow I don’t think your clothes hide much,” Bucky points out. Steve gives a short laugh and narrows his eyes at Bucky.

“And you would know this, how?” Instead of taking the bait, Bucky just reaches out his left hand to pinch Steve’s skin between his metal fingers, leaving behind a bright red mark. “Ow!” Steve chirps, pouting as he presses his fingers to the minor wound.

“You should probably get over there,” Bucky mutters, turning Steve’s attention to where two boys are sizing each other up, chins held high and looking ready for a fight. The parents nearby are pretending they don’t notice, so better book it. He heaves a sigh and gets up, Bucky’s mouth twitching into a mischievous smile as he reaches out and slaps Steve’s ass. Steve jumps and turns around, eyes wide.

“Bucky!” he hisses, cheeks flaring up with colour. “There are parents here! And kids! _Children_!”

Bucky throws him a wink and laughs while Steve tries to compose himself before heading over to break up the fight-to-be. It’s amusing to watch the students immediately back down when they see Steve approaching, dispersing as if nothing happened. Steve turns around and catches Bucky’s eye, giving a helpless shrug.

The rest of the event drags by with most of it being of no importance to Bucky. There are a few moments that he perks up, like when Steve gets really into an event and cheers his students on, encouraging them to the end. A couple other times, Steve gives high fives and blinding smiles at the kids who are smaller and clearly less agile. Bucky’s chest tightens at the sight, but he pretends it doesn’t.

“Gavin says that’s the guy,” Bucky hears some kid whisper off to his left. He doesn’t turn, but focuses his hearing a little.

“What? No way, his hair doesn’t fit the bill.”

“It’s just longer is all, and tied up.”

“Gavin’s talking bullshit.”

“Hey! I’m not! I’m telling you I’d recognize that guy’s smile a mile away.”

There’s a slight pause. “Gavin are you sure _you’re_ not the one that’s gay?”

One kid, probably Gavin, sputters, and Bucky has to supress his laugh. “Trust me. You saw them talking, didn’t you? What about Mr. Rogers talking on the phone the other day? _And_ that ass slap? It’s pretty much a sealed deal.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and makes to lie on his back against the grass. At least he can enjoy the weather.

The kids don’t say much more for a while, and Bucky’s pretty satisfied with that, so he throws an arm over his eyes and tries not to be too vigilant of everything going on around so he can relax.

A few minutes later, a shadow casts over Bucky, making him feel cold from the sudden lack of sunlight. Bucky lifts his arm and blinks up at the bodies hovering about him.

“Uh…” Bucky hesitates. “Hi.”

One of the kids, apparently with no intention to beat around the bush, asks, “Are you and Mr. Rogers together?”

No. But Bucky never has been one to make Steve’s life easy, and he’s not about to start now. “Yes.” It seems to be all the answer they need to leave him alone, one of them with their mouth hanging open. He catches the one guy – who he’s pretty sure is Gavin – throw a glance over his shoulder as they reproach to check Bucky out.

_Nice_ , Bucky thinks.

“What was that?” Steve asks, having appeared from nowhere. Honestly, why can’t people just let Bucky rest?

Bucky smiles all too innocently. “Nothing.”

***

**Hot Teacher:** I can’t believe you told my kids we’re dating.

**Bucky Barnes:** steven rogers, how dare you accuse me of such a thing? i would never!

**Hot Teacher:** Until you find a way to take out these circulating rumours, that’s Mr. Rogers to you.

**Bucky Barnes:** ooo sounds kinky

**Mr. Kinky n Cranky:** Shut!!!! Up!!!!

Bucky rolls his eyes fondly and grins before locking his phone and drawing in a customer who’s approaching his display. This should be an easy sale.

***

“Steve we need ice cream,” Bucky says, a tone of urgency in his voice.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “It’s one a.m., Buck.”

“So? Walmart’s always open.”

“Bu-”

Bucky cuts Steve off with a groan, slamming the freezer door shut. “I need some. _We_ need some. I need some and you’re fuckin coming with me.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shuts his notebook, popping into his room to put it away and grab a jacket.

Bucky grabs his keys, and together the two of them make it out onto the street. Steve feels a little silly when he sees Bucky get two helmets out from his bike, having originally thought they’d walk. Of course they’re going to ride there; like Steve said, it’s one a.m.

“Uhm,” Steve mutters, and Bucky looks up at him.

“Don’t be shy, Rogers. I’m sure you’d like to ride with me, right?”

Steve’s cheeks go red in the glow of the streetlamp, and Bucky feels utterly accomplished. He hands Steve the second helmet he keeps in there for the random occasion that he has someone with him, like Becca, and watches with amusement as Steve puts it on. Steve stumbles for a moment before settling onto the seat behind Bucky, not sure where to put his hands.

“You can hold on, loverboy. Don’t need you falling off this thing.”

Steve rolls his eyes even though Bucky can’t see it and leans forward a little, still cautious to keep a gap between his front and Bucky’s back. He rests his hands on Bucky’s waist first but that feels weirdly intimate, so when Bucky starts the bike up Steve lets go and reaches his hands behind himself to hold onto the back end of the seat. He swears he hears Bucky let out a breathy laugh, but since Bucky pulls out from the curb at the same time, he can’t know for sure. He huffs to himself and winces internally. Steve’s not usually so uncollected, and it makes him uncomfortable.

Despite his squirming, Steve tries to be a decent passenger, leaning with Bucky when he needs to. It’s not a long trip to the nearest Walmart, but it’s long enough for Bucky to be a cheeky little shit and make a couple sharp turns, making Steve’s heart jump into his throat enough that he scares and moves his hands to grip a little too tightly onto Bucky’s waist, leaning into him. _Stupid_ , Steve thinks, _You’re not scared; you’ve been on a fucking bike before. Bucky wouldn’t do anything stupid. Wait, does that mean he’s doing it on pur-_

“I know you like feeling me up and all, Cap, but we’re here,” Bucky says, smirk evident in his tone of voice. Steve whines and clambers off of the vehicle, not meeting Bucky’s eyes when he hands over the helmet. “Gosh, loosen up, Stevie. You’re making this too easy for me.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Don’t tell me to loosen up; I’ll do it myself.”

“Oh will you now?” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows. Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him as they walk.

“Okay, I walked right into that one. What kind of ice cream do you want?”

Bucky looks like he’s spacing out, mouth falling open just a little as he looks off into the distance. “All of it.”

After much deliberation and a couple innuendos about eating ice cream off of certain body parts, they end up leaving the store with a tub of brownie batter and rocky road.

“Why didn’t you let me get the Neopolitan?” Bucky whines.

Steve sighs and explains, for the tenth time, “Neopolitan is a crime. Chocolate and strawberry together taste like ass.”

Bucky scrunches up his nose. “I’ve tasted ass and it does _not_ taste like that.”

Steve sports a grin that makes Bucky’s stomach twist. “It does if you do it right. No need for an ice cream bowl.”

“Ass cream bowl,” Bucky mutters, and the two of them can’t stop laughing the whole way to the bike.

Bucky lets out a short sigh. He wants more, _God_ , he wants more. He wants all of Steve. He wants to make him blush in a hundred different ways (or more; he’s sure he can pull it off), he wants to watch that blush as it spreads under the collar of his shirt. He wants to taste Steve’s skin and kiss him slowly, make it last. Bucky swallows it down and sets his jaw as he puts his helmet on and mounts the bike. That Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s torso on the ride back does nothing to help.

***

A few days later, Bucky’s scrolling through his twitter feed when he turns the bathroom handle and walks in. He hears a yelp.

Bucky looks up, and sure enough, Steve is sitting there taking a shit.

“Jesus, don’t you lock the door?” Bucky asks, scrunching his nose.

“I forgot,” Steve says, face red. He’s not got his shirt on, and Bucky subconsciously lets his eyes trail down, watching with awe as the colour spreads across Steve’s skin.

“Ow!” Bucky exclaims. Steve just threw a fucking magazine at him. Rude much?

“Get lost, Buck! Fuck off!”

Bucky laughs but ducks out, being sure to lock the door from the inside before shutting it behind him. From the other side of the door, Bucky pulls out his phone and opens his music.

“Bucky you fucking memer!” Steve yells, laughing as the _Good Shit_ audio plays. Bucky grins triumphantly, waiting until the piece is done playing before leaving Steve to a peaceful dump.

***

Bucky wakes with a start, though any remnants of a bad dream wither away, and he can’t remember what it was that’s got his heart racing. He sits up, waiting for his breathing to calm down, and runs a hand through his hair. _It’s okay_ , he reminds himself, _you’re okay_. He goes to scrub his face with both hands, but when his eyes catch on the metal he freezes. Right. That. Is it weird that sometimes, even after all these years, Bucky forgets such a major part of him? He looks at it, a hollow feeling settling in his stomach. It feels heavy.

_No_.

No, today will not be that day. Not again. He shakes himself out of the stupor and gets to his morning routine. It doesn’t need to be another bad day, he decides while showering.

Unfortunately the universe isn’t prone to agree. “Fuck,” he mutters, scavenging through his sock drawer. He’s got to do laundry, he notes, because right now he has to endure the day in mismatched socks.

Having wasted more time than he noticed, Bucky has to rush his breakfast before he can leave and, while his bread is being toasted, he scours the apartment for his wallet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He feels his blood rushing, an anxiety overtaking him that’s only held back by the certainty that he at least put it in his room the night before.

Something smells off. Bucky sniffs the air, confusion written on his face until he can put his finger on the distinct scent of burning bread.

“FUCK!”

What luck.

Unfortunately the shitty luck transcends into his work, too.

Bucky’s checking his sales for the month, his stomach dropping the second he sees the numbers. _No, no, no. How could you let this happen?_

There’s only one thing Bucky hates more than old snobby ladies at work, and that one thing is Trey. Yes, Trey is a _thing_. Bucky is sure of it.

He’s not entirely sure when it started, but the two of them have upheld a rivalry since the summer that The Thing got transferred to Bucky’s store. No, Trey doesn’t ever beat Bucky’s sales, because Bucky is fucking amazing and he’s too charming to let that Thing get ahead of him. However, the numbers on the screen are betraying him. Not once since that asshead started did Bucky let him get the upper hand, but all of a sudden he’s made twice as much as Bucky has this month.

“James?” Bucky tenses up. He turns around to see his manager watching him. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Come to my office at the end of your shift.”

Bucky swallows his pride and nods. Shit.

The few hours he has to kill drag by, and there’s so much of nothing happening that he’s beginning to compare himself to Sisyphus.

Bucky considers taking his lunch break to actually eat, at least to alleviate some of the building stress. But of course, Bucky didn’t bring lunch the one day he wants it, and he didn’t manage to find his wallet that morning. Fuck.

His heart has sunk so low by the time he knocks on his boss’ office, trudging heavily when he’s called in. He slips into the seat, not making eye contact, gaze darting across the carpet.

His boss knows the truth about his arm, and even though Bucky hates pity, his boss has always insisted he’s just easy-going by nature. It took Bucky a month to realize he was telling the truth, and since then they’ve made quite the camaraderie between the two of them.

“I saw you looking at your sales today, James. You know you’ve been slipping.”

James. He feels like his mother is chiding him. He nods solemnly.

“Bucky,” he repeats softly. Bucky falters, looking up at his boss. “I know you’re not one to let Trey get ahead of you. And I know you’re one of the best employees I’ve ever had. So you let loose – it happens. Listen, you know if there’s anything wrong, you can tell me.” His eyes flick down to Bucky’s left hand, and Bucky suddenly feels the need to hide it.

“It’s not that,” Bucky ensures quickly. “It’s just…” What is it?

“I see you’ve been getting visits recently,” his boss tries. “New friend?”

Ha. “Yeah. We live together.”

The manager pauses, then leans forwards on his desk. “Have you considered what’s distracting you?”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly. Oh.

“I’m not giving you a warning, Bucky. I know you. I just want you to keep on track for yourself.”

Bucky nods.

“If you don’t have anything to say, you’re free to go.”

It’s probably not smart to ride a motorcycle home when he feels like he’s about to throw up, but Bucky was never the best at making sensible decisions.

***

Steve comes home from work to find Bucky washing dishes. He greets him, but Bucky just mumbles a stiff response. It makes a crease appear between Steve’s eyebrows, but he passes it off. Bad days happen. Steve can’t expect him to be peppy and playful every day, and it’s not the first time this has happened. He retreats to his bedroom to give Bucky some space and stays there until –

“Shit!”

Steve rushes out of the room and into the kitchen, where Bucky is stood staring at two halves of a broken dish in his hands. Steve winces when he sees the cracks on the plate underneath where Bucky’s left fingers are clutching it.

“Your hand,” Steve says, and Bucky flinches at his voice, not having realized he was there. He looks down at his right hand. Oh, blood.

Bucky stays unresponsive as Steve takes the broken dish from his hands and puts it aside, running Bucky’s hand under the water. He lets Steve mutter distractedly and drag him around, not noticing that Steve’s applying that same antiseptic cream Bucky used on him the second time they met. He doesn’t have the heart to consider the sentiment in that right now. Apparently the cut is large enough that Steve has to wrap some gauze around his hand to seal the wound.

“I’ll finish the dishes,” Steve promises. He leaves Bucky on the couch, and once Steve finishes cleaning up, he sits beside him. “Buck? Are you okay?”

Bucky forces a sour smile. “Dandy. How are you?”

Steve frowns. “I’m – I’m fine. Listen, Buck you… What happened today?”

“Nothing,” he states, stretching until he feels his shirt rise above the hem of his jeans to reveal a slip of skin. Bucky rolls his eyes when he sees Steve didn’t bother taking the chance to look down. He moves closer to Steve, and Steve freezes up for a moment.

“What’s going on, Buck? You can talk to me.”

“I told you, it’s nothing.” There’s a moment of silence, then Bucky opens his mouth and breathes, “When was the last time someone touched you?”

Steve clenches his jaw and stands up, crossing the apartment to go into his room. The slam of the door sounds like music to Bucky’s ears.

Steve is simmering, but he knows what Bucky was doing, that it was just a way to cover up what he’s feeling. It’s not fair, though. It’s not fair that Bucky thinks he can just _use_ Steve like that, especially after Steve wrought up the courage to admit to Bucky’s face that he likes him before cutting it off. It’s not like it’s been easy, or like Steve doesn’t want Bucky.

But Bucky wouldn’t manipulate Steve; he wouldn’t do that. Bucky’s not that type of guy, and Steve _knows_ this. Which can only mean that Bucky’s bad day is shittier than Steve anticipated, that he was trying to numb something, or make the hurt deepen. Steve has to try something.

Some time later, Steve shakes off his ill feelings and finally leaves his room, figuring Bucky will have gotten out of it. He’s on the couch watching The X-Files.

“Mario Kart?” Steve asks simply. Bucky looks up, looking surprised that Steve’s still talking to him (which kind of hurts, because of _course_ Steve would still talk to him. He knows more than Bucky gives him credit for).

“Sure.”

They end up playing for hours, Bucky slaying and coming first every time. Steve pretends to be annoyed by it, but he only does it for show to try and ease Bucky up. Unfortunately, Bucky’s playing in that way that’s angry competitive, and not fun competitive. Even when the pizza they ordered comes in, Bucky’s still seething, hands itching to get back to the remote and keep thrashing Steve and the CPU players.

Bucky’s mind-set is: if he can’t beat Trey at sales, he can at least fucking beat Steve at Mario Kart.

“Shit, man! How are you in the lead again? You’ve gotta be cheating. It’s in that arm of yours, isn’t it? Some sort of electrical voodoo,” Steve mutters, focused intently on the screen as he spews playful teasing.

Bucky slips up at the comment, and on Rainbow Road, a slip up is enough to fuck him over.

Steve has a blue shell.

“Hoe don’t do it,” Bucky says under his breath.

Steve does it.

Steve’s waiting for Bucky’s “Oh my God” to complete the meme, but flinches when Bucky snatches Steve’s controller from him with his left hand and crushes it in his fist.

Steve’s blood is pounding, and asides from the music of the game, there’s nothing. For the first time since he’s met Bucky, Steve is scared.

“B-”

Bucky’s staring at his left hand with the most broken look in his eyes, and Steve has no clue what to do. He can’t reach out and tell him it’s okay, because… Bucky isn’t going to believe that now, is he?

“Sorry,” Bucky says, voice so quiet that Steve hardly hears it. He stands up and shuts the door to his bedroom behind him quietly.

***

The first thing Steve does after he’s moved past the initial shock is identify that he’s not scared _of_ Bucky, more that his fear stems from his concern _for_ Bucky. Then he fetches a Ziploc bag from the kitchen and picks up the smashed controller, wondering if they can salvage any of its wreckage. Steve’s betting on it being a big no, but he’ll clean it up and put it aside for safekeeping. Maybe Bucky has a warranty on it.

It’s only once he’s shut off the game and put the few leftover slices in the fridge that Steve lets the silence drag him into the reality of the situation.

This wasn’t Bucky’s fault, and Steve’s worried it might be his own, having pushed Bucky over the precipice of his patience, causing him to snap. He wants to knock on Bucky’s door and apologize. There’s every chance Bucky is in his room beating himself up over having done what he did, or that he’ll do it tomorrow if he’s too angry to be apprehensive right now.

It’s not like Steve didn’t offer him an outlet. He asked Bucky if he wanted to talk, tried to get him to let it all out so Steve could help ease his burden some. Steve feels a twitch of irritation at the fact that it came to this, that Bucky didn’t just open up and let them deal with it so it wouldn’t get to this. He knows Bucky’s going to end up being closed off, and if he _just_ –

No, that’s not what matters, and it’s not Bucky’s fault. God knows Steve’s had his share of moody nights where he refused to say a word to anyone, too stubborn in his pride to let someone handle him.

Besides, Bucky doesn’t owe him that. Bucky doesn’t owe Steve a single thing. It’s not like they’re together, and for the amount of times Steve’s thought that, he should really consider talking to see what that means. He shouldn’t just expect Bucky to want to divulge any private information to him. Hell, they might be roommates, and they might even be friends in it all, but he’s not even sure what Bucky considers Steve to be.

_God_ , though. He wishes Bucky would trust him. It makes his chest tight to even think about it. Steve’s always so bothered about other people being okay that he would drag himself as far as he needs to go to get Bucky to trust him.

He’s not sure why.

Maybe it’s because making Bucky laugh is an achievement that Steve has the pleasure of fulfilling almost every day, even in the early mornings when he’s all fuzzy from having just woken up. Maybe it’s because he feels he owes Bucky that much for everything he’s offered to Steve. Maybe it’s because of that twist in Steve’s gut every time Bucky makes eye contact at him at the end of his laughter, his eyes still gleaming with amusement, and because of that feeling and so many more, he just wants to make sure Bucky’s happy.

Steve freezes when he catches up with his train of thought.

No. No, no, no, _no_.

Remember Peggy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains slow building anxiety and a little bit of violence, though nothing inflicted on either of our favourite parties. 
> 
> Good shit meme audio [here](http://peelace.co.vu/post/123530676786/kyleehenke-sign-me-the-fuck-up) for those of you not privy to its existence  
> Y'all should hmu on tumblr especially with the new IM system!!! Talk to me about these idiots... Please...  
> Also forgot to give a shoutout to Stevie for the bit in the last chap about pissy bucky with the vibrating hand and shoving it up your ass thing... And to Abbey for this chapter's Mario Kart scene!! I love you guys :* 
> 
> Up next: more on Steve, and a saucy resolution (i just... used that word ONCE tonight texting india and now i can't stop).


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've not written at all this week and I hope that changes but UGH I just can't seem to get it done. Anyway. Srosh, my trash ass friend, sends you guys a warning that this chapter might be emotionally distressing. You have been duly warned. I hope this is okay? -G

_Steve cranes his neck to look to the door as he hears the key turn in the lock. He smiles instantly, stumbling his way off the sofa to get to the door before Peggy opens it._

_“Hey,” he says. Steve’s voice is so full of love that anyone who heard that single word fall from his lips would know in a split second how he feels about his girlfriend. She smiles warmly as she makes it through the door and leans up to press a quick kiss to his lips._

_“Hello, Steve. What have you been doing today?” She makes to move further into the house they and Sam share, but Steve only lets her get far enough to put her umbrella and briefcase down before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up against him._

_“Just waiting for my best girl.”_

_“All day?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “I’m rather sceptical about that. Couldn’t have been very interesting.”_

_“Oh I’ll have you know it was_ very _interesting,” Steve mutters against her neck. Peggy rolls her eyes and swats away his wandering hands, then turns around in his arms to face him. Steve leans down to kiss her, but Peggy keeps dodging him until he finally whines and gives up. “Whaaaat? Lemme kiss you.”_

_“Not yet.”_

_“Why nooooot?” He tightens his hold on her and lifts her up, carrying Peggy to the couch and sitting her down. Despite his size, he lies down on the couch all curled in on himself, head in her lap. Peggy smiles fondly down at him, running her fingers through his hair._

_“Because, I have some good news.”_

_Steve noticed it the second Peggy walked in: her smile is a bit brighter, just short of beaming, and there’s a buzzing excitement about her that he didn’t think to ask about until now. “Whazzat?” he mumbles, nuzzling against her thigh until he’s settled comfortably._

_“Steve, I – I got offered a promotion.”_

_Steve sits up too fast, not having noticed Peggy’s leaning over him. His head collides with her chin, and he’s rapidly babbling apologies, but Peggy’s quick to laugh it off, telling Steve to stop saying sorry._

_He sits cross-legged facing her on the couch with wide eyes. “You’re serious? Pegz, that’s incredible! I’m so happy for you! Gosh, you deserve it so much. Tell me everything.”_

_Peggy takes Steve’s hands in her own and rambles excitedly about the new position: works, perks, and all. Her eyes are alight with a delight that almost pains Steve; he hardly ever gets to see her so excited about something. It’s good though – it makes his chest constrict, and he holds his breath only because he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. He focuses on everything he can, from the animated body language all the way down to the slightest breaths between her words. Steve knows he wants to remember this; that he wants to burn it to memory and think back to it five years from now._

_“There is…. one thing,” she says hesitantly, smile still evident despite the slight dulling in her eyes. Steve frowns and rubs his thumbs over the backs of her hands._

_“What’s that?”_

_“Steve… The - the job is in London.”_

_Steve’s smile falters. He tries to gather his suddenly scattered thoughts and keep his expression neutral. He can’t let the flicker of panic and distress that’s kindling show. Despite his best efforts, Steve can’t hold the eye contact._

_“Steve?” Peggy whispers. Steve’s fingers have frozen, and so has his breathing. He clears his throat and fixes on a false smile._

_“Mhm?”_

_“Steve… I want you to come with me.” There it is. His eyes fall shut as he lets out a short breath. “We could settle down. We could build our life together, and make friends and start a family, Steve. Right now everything we’re doing is holding onto our youth, but we’re growing up. This could be our everything.”_

_“I – What about Sam? He’s our friend, heck,_ he’s _our family.” It’s all Steve can make himself respond with. His mind won’t stop jumping from one extreme to the other, no matter how much he tries to focus on the waning of Peggy’s smile and how he’s responsible for that, and that he should man up and say yes._

_“Sam will understand. Don’t you see? This could be the fresh start we both need to start the rest of our lives together.”_

_Steve stares at his fingers resting against Peggy’s own hands. He doesn’t understand why the idea of moving, of uprooting and leaving everything he’s ever known scares him so much when Peggy is right in front of him. She should be all he needs, but somehow he can’t bring his mind to agree with his heart._

_What is he going to do about his jobs? It took enough work to land something that allows for some creative outlet with enough income to stretch out over the week, and then there’s his other job. (The job he uses to pay off his old medical bills, and the leftover debt he forced his mother to sign over to him in the case that she ever… His mother was always adamant on paying people back, even if they had so little to spare and it was only a dollar’s worth of candy for Steve. Steve was just as stubborn in insisting she let him help her out.)_

_Peggy’s just… Steve has no idea how she could supposedly feel the same way about him that he does her. She reminds him, sure, but Steve can’t help but feel small around her sometimes. It’s not a matter of ego, more so that nagging reminder at the back of his head that Steve isn’t good enough. Steve loves Peggy, of course he does, but he wonders if that isn’t enough. It should be, but in the real world where does love stand in the face of money, power, status, and the rest of the bullshit that’s been wrought by capitalism? He almost wants to laugh at himself, but the pain in his chest from the lack of air doesn’t let him._

_“Steve.”_

_He blinks up at Peggy, realizing he’s been silent for far too long. He tries to say something reassuring, but the words that leave his lips are strangled and self-loathing. “Peggy, I – I’m not enough.”_

_And Steve hates himself for having said it, because Peggy gets that look in her eye, the one of love and concern, and Steve can’t fucking take it. How does he deserve someone like her? He lets out a laboured breath at the touch of her fingers to his cheek._

_“Of course you are. I know you, Steve, and I know what you’re thinking. You don’t have to be the one to put dinner on the table, not until you figure out what you want. We can manage for a while with just the two of us.”_

_“Bu- I – Peggy, I_ want _to be that for you. I want to sho- to show you that I can do that, and show myself that I can do that. I don’t care about being the ‘man of the house,’ Peggy, you know it’s never been that.” Steve thinks but refuses to voice that he’s scared that even if he tried he thinks –_ knows _– that he couldn’t be that. His dream, as frivolous and far away as it is, is hardly viable._

_“I saw how hard my mom worked to bring home food every night, Peggy. Half the time she gave up eating her own share just to make sure I made it through the night. I don’t want that for my family, Peggy, and I know that you can handle it, but I can’t let you take it all on yourself. I can’t see you come home looking like you’re worked to death because I can’t make something of myself.”_

_Peggy refrains from saying anything for a while. When she finally does, she musters up a half-hearted smile and looks to Steve with sad, hopeful eyes. It breaks Steve’s heart. “It’s okay, Steve.”_

_“It’s not.” Steve hates himself. He really does._

_“Steve you can go there and easily get a job in journalism. God knows there’s no shortage of news in London.” Steve laughs hollowly at her attempt for lightening the mood. It just makes him feel worse._

_Steve tried journalism. It wasn’t long ago, actually, but he didn’t tell Peggy. He was hoping to settle down in the job before he let anyone know, because Steve knew himself to be flighty. He left after three weeks. He tried – he tried so hard – but it wasn’t the same. Journalism isn’t the same, and the style it calls for isn’t what Steve is good at, and he knows it. He’s too stubborn to let himself be held back for the sake of practicality. Shit, why can’t he just accept a mundane job and work for the money like everyone else? Why is he so invested in his writing that he can’t apply his skill elsewhere to at least earn a steady income?_

_There’s exhaustion settling deep into every inch of Steve’s face. He looks ten years older from a single conversation and being faced with the crushing reality of all his imperfections, all of his stupid inadequacies._

_Peggy doesn’t look any better._

_Steve can feel his insides screaming in protest. He knows what this is. He isn’t that stupid._

_“Steve,” Peggy says softly. He lifts his eyes up, not having realized he’s on the verge of tears until he sees her face blurring into a mess of colours. “This is it, isn’t it?”_

_Steve doesn’t want it to be. He wants to tear himself apart for Peggy, just to be good enough, to not have to make her go through his mess. He wants to be the one to fight. His mind presents two extremes: for Peggy it’s him or her job, and all the potential she has finally being recognised. For him, it’s her – love, passion,_ home _– or his sanity. Steve feels so selfish._

_Once the tears start he can’t make them stop. Peggy chokes down a sad smile, pressing a ghost of a kiss to his cheek before letting him fall against her, clutching to her like this is it. This is all they have left._

_“I don’t want it to be,” he sobs. Everything sounds ugly and distorted, but the truth is just that._

_“I know Steve,” Peggy coos, not able to hold back her own tears as she massages his head soothingly. “I know.”_

_They stay close for long, so long. Steve doesn’t know how long it’s been before Peggy says, “Maybe tomorrow, or later we can talk through this again. We can figure this out, Steve.”_

_Steve wants to believe her._

_Peggy leaves two weeks later. Nothing is figured out._

***

 _Remember Peggy?_ Steve thinks. _Remember how you were too caught up in your own mess that you couldn’t keep her happy?_ How can Steve ever imagine dragging Bucky into that? Even starting it, Steve knows he’d fall too fast – he always does – and he can’t do that to Bucky. Bucky, who deserves so much better than someone who isn’t confident or secure, someone who doesn’t have a clue.

He wishes he could just snap his fingers out and figure things out for himself (if only it were that simple). He _needs_ to. It’s funny how with the one thing Steve wants to do, he can’t bring himself to gather the confidence to actually put his work out there. Nearing on twenty-eight years of constant failure.

There’s Bucky who’s pushing everything to follow his goal – who even _has_ a goal. He’s going to school, and he’s in a line of work that will help his career, supposing that Bucky wasn’t just drunkenly rambling on with immense passion about opening a store that one night.

What’s Steve doing? Stripping.

The familiar tightness grips his throat, forces Steve to widen his eyes and pinpoint a piece of furniture to try and even out his breathing.

“You have to visit less,” Bucky’s voice comes from his door. Steve snaps his head up, still bewildered and lost in thought.

“Wh-?”

“You have to visit less or I’ll get fired,” Bucky elaborates, as if it makes any more sense to Steve in his current frame of mind. He sighs and plops beside Steve, dropping his head onto the back of the couch and gripping his hands in his hair. “My boss talked to me today. My sales are down, and I’m pretty sure it’s because you keep coming in on my shift and I spend way too long goofing off.”

“Sorry,” Steve mutters. As if he doesn’t feel bad enough. He stops that train of thought the second it leaves the station. This is about Bucky. It explains some of his bad mood, Steve reasons.

“I’m sorry about the…” Bucky starts, gesturing to the game console, sitting forlorn by the TV. Steve shrugs. It’s fine, really, but Bucky won’t accept that just yet, so Steve says nothing. “Seriously though, Steve. You have to stop coming in because you’re too distracting.”

“Oh am I now?” Steve says, a teasing lilt to his voice. Bucky huffs a laugh, but Steve can’t help but notice how forced it is. He looks tired. “Alright, you win. I won’t come in.”

“No!” Bucky jumps in. “No, like you can come but just… once a week? Or at least a lot less than you do. And lunch breaks are always safer. I just can’t spend hours walking around with you, not making sales.”

“Hey,” Steve warns, “Don’t put it on me. You’re the one who said you’d be my sugar daddy, it’s not my fault that you don’t actually buy that shit for me.”

“Ha ha,” Bucky deadpans. He rolls his eyes and drops his head into his hands, rubbing wearily at his eyes. Whatever fucked up dream he had last night has had him exhausted all day.

Bucky hums appreciatively when Steve tentatively rubs the back of Bucky’s neck, hoping to relieve some tension.

“That good?”

“Mmm. ‘M kinda tense.”

“Really? Man, I couldn’t tell.”

Bucky makes a mocking noise of disapproval and draws his chin closer to his chest for Steve to have prime access to his neck. On top everything earlier, he really has endured quite the stress today, translating directly into his physical discomfort.

“Do you wanna…” Steve trails off. He frowns and keeps going at it, making Bucky turn on the couch so he can start working his hands down the sides of Bucky’s neck, then his shoulders.

He gets a bit close to the joint between metal and flesh, but Bucky doesn’t even flinch. “Are you comfortable with, uh. Your arm?”

“Mm. The joint is a bit sensitive, but the metal itself – if you’re feeling up to it – has sensors.” Steve knows that.

“Lie down,” he says gently. He can see Bucky smirk, tampering down the oh so easy opportunity to make a complete ass out of Steve in favour of submitting. Steve gets off the couch to let Bucky stretch out, and then realizes one major shortcoming. “Buck, you’re too fucking tall. Floor.”

“Kinky,” Bucky mumbles, not being able to pass up a second chance. Steve scoffs and shoves him lightly as he stands up, pulling the couch cushions off to lay them on the floor so Bucky isn’t pressed up against… hard wood. Steve shakes his head and lets Bucky lie down before realizing another predicament.

“Are you okay with uhm,” Steve stammers. How does he ask if he can straddle the backs of Bucky’s thighs?

Bucky waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever gets you off, Rogers. ‘M just here for the free massage.”

Steve feels the warmth rise into his cheeks as he situates himself in the best way possible, while putting the least amount of weight possible on Bucky.

Bucky is in fucking _heaven_. It’s bad enough that part of Steve’s weight is making him think explicitly about where Steve is right now, and what he might look like if Bucky were to chance a glance over his shoulder, but _fuck_ Steve’s hands are magic. He wonders if Steve has done this before, and who for, but he realizes he doesn’t care when Steve hits a certain spot and a moan spills from his lips.

Oops.

It’s not so much the typical massage where Steve’s trying to work out every single knot – although he does get a few – more just him pressing into the flesh and loosening every ounce of tension. He slowly works his way from Bucky’s shoulders to his arms, and the sensors in Bucky’s left arm make his neurons light up with sensation. God bless Tony Stark.

Steve kind of has to either move to hover across Bucky’s lower back, or lean forward to reach Bucky’s arms properly, but since the latter is much more compromising and will leave Steve’s face stained permanently red, he opts for the slightly less comfortable option.

Eventually he lets his fingers trail down Bucky’s sides, kneading gently and working his way inwards towards Bucky’s spine. He takes his sweet, sweet time, wanting desperately and selfishly to reduce Bucky to a moaning mess beneath him, and so far he’s only half satisfied with what he’s hearing.

Bucky doesn’t mean to get hard. Honestly, he doesn’t, but even with his shirt on he can feel every purposeful touch of Steve’s hands and it makes his heart race. This is very, very risky.

Then Steve moves further down and pays sweet attention to Bucky’s lower back, hands roaming dangerously close to the stop of Bucky’s ass, and _that’s_ the sweet spot. Bucky has to force himself to not press his hips up into the touch, knowing that if he does he’ll bump into Steve, and that can only end badly. He’s biting onto his lip kind of hard, because the sounds he’s letting out are downright embarrassing, and he doesn’t doubt they give away Bucky’s problem.

Steve _has_ to know what he’s doing, because Bucky’s had massages before – ones that his doctor and Tony have forced him to go to – and none of them were this pleasurable, even if they were a little better with the slick oil helping to heat his skin and reduce the friction.

Bucky’s shirt slips up when Steve pushes his hands up Bucky’s back, and that’s when Steve calls it quits. He swallows and gently pulls Bucky’s shirt back down, careful not to touch any skin.

“Would do more, but work tomorrow,” Steve says. He tries to use minimal words in case his voice sounds funny.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes. “Yeah, no, it’s good. Thanks.”

Steve nods, thinking himself stupid when he realizes Bucky can’t see him. He considers hanging about, but honestly Steve has to get some goddamn relief and get away from the temptation, so he grabs his phone and leaves Bucky lying there.

Bucky is infinitely glad that Steve doesn’t stick around to witness Bucky refusing to turn over onto his front or stand up. At least he can put the couch back in order and go to bed without any awkward rambling.

All Bucky can think when he’s going to his room is an endless loop of _why why why why why?_

For what it’s worth, at least it was a good (read: Bucky means to redefine the word good) end to a shitty day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu)  
> Lemme know what you thought n stuff.. Hope y'all are having a good time n if you just wanna chat and stuff on tumblr or need someone to rant to you can use the new IM system!
> 
> Up next: Lunch with Becca! Chill night in w the fam!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CIVIL WAR TRAILER. For those of you that are trying to avoid spoilers/don't want to watch it I won't say anything, but... Shit. Anyway. Uni has been eating my ass and I should be studying OChem right now but I owe you guys this. Oh, also I have a job! Yay! -G
> 
> hope your day doesn't suck :) -India
> 
> Warnings at the end again!

After jerking off, Bucky sleeps like a baby. Steve, on the other hand, hardly sleeps. Having his thoughts run back to Peggy the way they did, he can’t seem to find rest for the mind that keeps running.

He could’ve tried harder. He could have a different life altogether with her if he just said _yes_. It was more than just the promotion; everything led back to Peggy and how much he loved her, and how he should have done it for her. He should’ve gone to the ends of the earth for her no matter what the situation. He was weak. Always so weak.

In all truth, Steve never wanted to hold Peggy back, so he didn’t try to stop her from leaving. He knew her potential, her aspirations, and that holding her down would only drive them apart. She deserved better than that, and so Steve tried to give it to her. He didn’t think that in the process he’d lose her.

Peggy was so polite about it. She understood how much everything at home meant to him, even though he couldn’t articulate it at the time (which was just purely ironic since his dream is to write; that thought only made him more depressed), and accepted his decision to stay behind with nothing more than tears shed.

They texted and video chatted to keep in touch at the start, not really sure if they’d officially ended or if they were going to try to make it work. Time zones and work got the better of them, and soon they went days, weeks, months without saying a word. It left a hollowness in Steve’s chest, one that has seemingly only been filled by Bucky as of recent.

Steve blinks at the ceiling, the remnants of city lights seeping through his curtains and marking up the walls. He studies the lines, changing from crisp contrast to blurred gradients. The room is silent, doused in dull illumination. His window is open, and he can hear the cars that are driving down their street occasionally. People are out there living their lives, taking risks and never stopping, even when they can’t take anymore. Dreams are flourishing from distant passion into real life.

Steve can’t help but to wonder what it’d be like if he just gave in.

***

Bucky’s nearing on lunch break when Steve walks in, smiling stupidly at his feet. It makes Bucky’s breathing freeze for a moment. He wishes he could be the one to make Steve smile like that.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him once he’s in hearing range. Steve shoots his head up, smile brightening impossibly. God, he makes it so hard sometimes.

“Got you lunch. Thought you might want some company today.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks, leaning onto the glass counter on his elbows. “Where’d you get that idea?”

Steve huffs. “Okay, maybe _I_ needed some company today. Whatever, here.” He slides a brown bag from Carl’s Jr. across the counter. Bucky takes a quick glance at it, doing a double take when he sees some scribbled sharpie.

The bag says ‘eat like you mean it’ but apparently Steve felt it necessary to add to it so that it reads ‘eat ass like you mean it’. Bucky grins. “Give me five minutes and we can go to the café and eat there.”

Bucky makes to start conversation when he spots a familiar head of hair coming their way. Oh God no. This is not meant to happen this way.

“Bucky!” Rebecca calls out. Steve turns around, and Bucky catches his sister’s meaningful glance, plus the totally conspicuous eyebrow waggle.

“Your sister?” Steve asks. Bucky groans in response, and Steve laughs.

When Becca is closer, she smiles all too brightly to be entirely innocent. “Who’s this? Did I interrupt a sale?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and reaches across the counter to pinch her cheek, too fast for her to step away. Becca scowls at him. “You know you didn’t, and you also know that this is Steve. Becca, Steve. Steve, Becca.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Steve says, shaking her hand.

“Really? Shit then that means you have a totally biased opinion of me. He probably makes me out to be a demon child.”

Steve gives Bucky a quick glance. “Actually, he doesn’t. He’s always really mushy when he talks about you, tells me how much he misses you and how proud he is.”

“Ugh, too much,” Becca says, putting her hand up to stop the assault of cheesy dialogue. “Bucky would never say that, stop telling lies. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that’s not polite?”

Steve bristles, and Bucky immediately shifts the attention. “Didn’t your mother teach _you_ that it’s not polite to sass a stranger?”

“Didn’t your mother teach you to introduce your little sister to your charming new roommate?” Becca snaps back. Bucky is about to shoot back when her eyes land on the brown bag. “Oh my God. You – ‘eat ass like you mean it’?”

“Steve did it,” Bucky says quickly, but that’s clearly the wrong thing to do, because Becca looks between him and Steve, and Steve blushes. Bucky knows Rebecca is reading into this all wrong. “He’s got a dumb sense of humour.”

“Like yours is any better,” Steve says defensively. “Your idea of a joke is referencing an internet meme.”

“Memes are funny, Steve. You’re just too old to be with it these days.”

“You’re _both_ old,” Rebecca says with a scoff. “C’mon, I’m hungry. I’m taking Bucky’s share of the lunch.”

Once they’re at the café, Steve ends up being the one sacrificing his share to Rebecca. He eats some, but Bucky knows that he usually takes way more. Steve just gives him this look that says it’s alright, and Bucky lets it go.

“So Bucky hasn’t told me much about you,” Becca says conversationally. “Though I should point out I’ve seen more of your ass than I have your face.”

“That I know,” Steve mutters with a blush. Bucky kicks him under the table and sticks out his tongue.

“Blame Becca,” Bucky says.

Becca clicks her tongue. “Please, if you hadn’t insisted on paying me back for the camera and just accepted it, I never would’ve considered that notion.”

Bucky glares at his little sister.

Out of nowhere, she simply asks, “What are you two?”

Bucky hates her. She couldn’t have saved it for a text after? Given, she probably wouldn’t believe him, because he’s retained that tendency to hide important things until it’s pried out of him, but still.

“Uh, just roommates,” Steve answers for the both of them. Becca gives Bucky a quick look of scepticism, but thankfully nothing more.

The lunch break is short and they talk continuously, passing stories around of how embarrassing they were as kids. (Becca tells Steve that Bucky ran around stark naked with his underwear on his head, and Bucky has the sudden urge to whine like a little kid and disappear.) Somewhere in between, Steve goes into his genuine laugh that makes Bucky’s eyes soften. Then Steve’s hand lands directly onto Bucky’s left pec.

Becca stares gobsmacked, and Steve gathers his composure, confused as to why she’s stopped talking. “Excuse me,” she mutters, and dashes out of the café, failing miserably at hiding her laughter.

“What?” Steve asks. He’s so confused.

Bucky gives him an exasperated look, but spares him the explanation.

“Nothing.”

Always so confused.

They settle into their seats, a silence passing between them.

“I like her. She’s a good kid.”

“Yeah,” Bucky huffs, tucking some hair behind his ear. “She’s alright.”

“You really love her, don’t you?”

Bucky pauses, though it’s not a hesitation. Never a hesitation with Becca. He chews on his lip and looks wistfully into a back corner of the café. “I do.”

“You do what?” Becca chimes in.

Before Steve can reveal Bucky’s mushy side yet again, Bucky cuts in with, “Think you’re a nerd.”

“Whatever,” she says, sitting back in her seat. “You love it.”

“That’s what I said!” Steve jumps in. Bucky glares at the both of them.

“Can he help it? I’m just the more loveable child out of the two of us, aren’t I?”

Bucky makes a sour face. “Ugh, shut up. Steve loves me, don’t you Steve?”

There’s a split moment where Bucky registers what he just said, and he immediately wants to shove the words back into his mouth. Becca caught it too, judging by the fact that her jaw is practically on the table.

To everyone’s relief, Steve just plays along. “Weeeeeell,” Steve considers, “That’s debateable.”

“Punk,” Bucky says, shoving Steve by his shoulder. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done had Steve said anything else.

“Jerk.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Becca mutters to herself. Bucky narrows his eyes at her.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks – of course he asks that, because he’s always an oblivious pineapple. Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Fine, just. I’m questioning if you put something into the food. I shouldn’t trust you.”

“Please, what’s not to trust?” Steve replies, gesturing at himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Becca drawls. “I don’t know about you guys but I have somewhere to be. I’ll see you later, Buck.”

She gets up and walks over to Bucky, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and kissing his head. He makes a noise of protest, so she pulls back and ruffles his hair to bug him some more.

“Take care,” Bucky says.

“I’m not five anymore,” Rebecca replies mockingly, like they’ve done this dialogue a thousand times before, which they probably have.

“I should probably get back,” Bucky says. Steve’s got this weird look on his face, and Bucky can’t decipher it. It kind of bugs him. “Did you eat enough? Are you going to get something more? I know you gave most of your share to Bec.”

“I’m fine,” Steve assures. “I might grab something on the way back to the school, but I’ll live if I don’t.”

“Alright.”

“So,” Steve says, the two of them getting up. They stand for a moment, suddenly unsure of how to part, as if it’s the first time. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Neither of them turns to leave, and Bucky chews on his lip some while Steve’s cheeks start to colour. He scrunches his nose and laughs lightly. “Have a good day, Bucky.”

“You too.”

Steve’s mouth quirks up into a smile before he turns around to leave.

Bucky frowns when he identifies the funny feeling after Steve’s left as disappointment.

***

Later that night, Bucky can’t for the life of him remember where he misplaced his phone.

“Steve?” he calls out, ass stuck up in the air as he’s bent over trying to look under the couch.

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen my phone?”

“No. Want me to ring it for you?”

“Please,” Bucky replies, standing up and stretching. Steve pops out of his room, his phone in hand. Both of them strain their ears for Bucky’s phone, and when they finally hear it Bucky’s eyes widen.

That’s…

Bucky listens in disbelief for a few more seconds, and Steve’s just standing there with the most serious expression.

Then, “We’re no strangers to loooooove,” Steve sings passionately. “You know the rules and SO. DO. I! A full commitment’s what I’m _thinking ooof_. You wouldn’t get this from ANY OTHER GUY!”

Bucky can’t believe his eyes. Steve is going out in full on Rick Roll mode and Bu…. He starts dancing along and moving closer to Bucky as he sings, trying to coax Bucky into it, but Bucky’s convinced he won’t join in.

“IIIIIIII just wanna tell you how I’m feeling. Gotta make you-” Steve sings, getting all up in Bucky’s space and gesturing for him to sing along. “-UNDERSTAND. Never gonna GIVE YOU UP, never gonna LET YOU DOWN, never gonna run around and DESERT YOU.”

Steve pauses for a beat, trying to pass off to Bucky.

Bucky smiles sheepishly. He’s not going to do this.

“C’mon, Buck! Never gonna make you cry, never gonna SAAAY goodbye, never gonna teeeell a liiieee and hurt you.”

Steve stops, pouting at Bucky.

“Go on, I’m waiting,” Bucky teases.

“I don’t know the second verse.”

“Oh my God. You – We’ve known each other for _so loooong_ , your heart’s been aching but _you’re too shyyy_ to say it! Inside, we both know what’s been _going oooonnn_ , we know the game and we’re gonna pl-”

Steve’s smile is too bright for Bucky to take, but he plans to keep on going when the buzzer rudely cuts them off.

“Clint and Natasha were coming over,” Bucky explains after a moment of reorienting himself. Steve gets the most mischievous grin on his face, and Bucky knows _exactly_ what he’s thinking.

Bucky presses the button on the intercom, and before anyone can say anything, him and Steve are singing (rather in key, to their credit) “AAAAAND IF YOU ASK ME HOW I’M FEELING, DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE TO BLIND TO SEE. NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN, NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU.”

“FUCK YOU BARNES!” Clint yells on the other end of the intercom. Bucky dissolves into a fit of laughter while Steve lets them up.

“Oh my God,” Bucky says between breaths. “Fuck.”

“I’m the best, aren’t I?” Steve punches Bucky in the arm gently. “Dork.”

“Says the one who started singing along to Rick Astley like it’s the most normal thing to do.”

“Is that your actual ringtone though? Because if it is, then the title of dork is definitely on your head.”

“No, I swear it’s not. I know you don’t believe me, but Steve you _gotta_. I bet it was Clint last time I hung out with him.”

“Well then I’d say we got him back good.”

“Yeah. We did.”

“Good team,” Steve mutters thoughtfully. He claps his hands and rubs them together. “Right, now where’s your phone?”

They go through another round of ringing Bucky’s phone, refraining from breaking out into song this time, and find it just in time to hear Clint banging the door.

Steve opens it, but Clint just breezes past him, scowling as he stalks over to Bucky and standing so there’s only two inches of space between them.

“I hate you.” Clint says bitterly. Bucky scoffs and turns away.

“Oh dear, I’m _so_ sorry. Maybe you should think twice before fucking around with people’s ringtones.”

“That wasn’t me!” Nat gives Clint a sharp look, and he slumps weakly. “Fine,” he mumbles.

Natasha gives Steve and Bucky quick hugs, opting to press a quick kiss to Bucky’s cheek, which makes Clint frown. Bucky is sure Clint’s thinking of how to exact revenge on him, some way to humiliate Bucky in front of Steve.

“How’ve you boys been?” Natasha asks coolly, grabbing some grapes from their rarely stocked fruit bowl and washing them. “Been keeping it PG?”

“Yes,” Bucky answers all too quickly. Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up. She smirks between biting into a grape and Bucky blatantly ignores her attempt to rib him. She’s going to hound him about that until whenever he decides to tell her, that he knows.

Natasha throws a grape to Clint, and he willingly jumps to catch it in his mouth.

“Oh my God,” Bucky mutters, “I’m so using that against you. You’re like a trained puppy.”

“Like Steve doesn’t have you on his leash,” Clint snaps back. “This married life has tied you down; we hardly see you anymore.”

Bucky frowns. Steve doesn’t have him on any leash – metaphorical or… otherwise – and he has no clue where Clint got that idea.

Steve cuts in and comes to his defence, saying, “Well maybe you should come over more. That being said, bedroom activities tend to keep people ‘tied down’ one way or another. Maybe Bucky’s a little busy with that, rather than tending to me.”

Bucky would be more horrified if that claim hadn’t made Clint choke in his attempt to catch another grape. For one thing, if Steve thinks Bucky’s busy with ‘that’ elsewhere, then Steve has no fucking clue. Bucky hasn’t been with anyone since his birthday.

On the other hand, Bucky’s mind is now plagued with thoughts of Steve and beds and being tied up all in one, and he’s convinced he’s about to burst a vessel just standing there trying to hold himself together.

“Gross. Did not need to know that.”

“No!” Bucky interrupts. “No, no, it’s not like that.”

“What? You and your husband have yet to consummate your marriage?”

“We’re not married you asshole,” Bucky sputters.

“Really? I recall an exchange of rings – or _a_ ring at the least – that Steve, last time I heard, is still in possession of. Unless he isn’t really that Steve and I was right all along.”

“I still have it,” Steve says helpfully. Bucky doesn’t have the strength to internalize his groan.

“Now boys,” Natasha warns, her voice tinged with amusement, a slight twist of her lips betraying her normally withheld emotions.

“Let’s see it,” Clint challenges. Steve shrugs and opens the freezer, digging around until he finds it. Bucky is half worried Steve is spending too much time in there and should get out before he gets frostbite, and he _would_ say something if Clint wasn’t there.

“See? Brand new. Top of the class ice.”

Clint rolls his eyes at Steve’s pun and snatches it off him. “Yeah right,” he mumbles to himself.

“Stop being a shitface about it. You lost the bet and you’re still alive,” Bucky says, taking the frozen onion ring back. He wrinkles his nose as he looks at it. Sure looks like the same one. Damnit, Steve.

“You’re all engaged and married and shit, probably exchanged your ‘I dos,’ but you didn’t invite your best friends to the wedding. We didn’t even get to see your first kiss as a married couple, Buck.”

“Wh- Clint, you ass, I’m not gonna – ”

“If we kiss will you give this up?” Steve asks, sounding rather tired of the whole thing himself. Granted, the sheepishness may be due to the fact that everyone in the room now knows that, indeed, Steve kept the stupid thing.

Clint gapes. “You know what?” He mutters thoughtfully, not looking at Bucky so as to ignore his death glare. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

Bucky looks to Natasha for help, but she just shrugs. What a friend.

Reluctantly, Bucky glances at Steve. “You don’t…”

“It’s fine,” Steve says. It’s _not_ , Bucky wants to whine, it’s _not fine_ and it’s not fair that Clint is doing this to him right now. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

He’s not sure when Steve gets closer because none of this seems like it’s actually happening right now. Clint and Natasha are eerily quiet, so much so that Bucky’s wondering if he just imagined their presence. It’s silent and strange and uncomfortable, but _God_ does he want to kiss Steve. He can’t want it though, and that’s what has Bucky’s head spinning. But Steve said it’s fine.

“You okay?” Steve whispers. Too intimate. Bucky hates the feeling, knows it’s something they’re not allowed, so he ruins the potential for it to be anything other than a fleeting joke of a kiss and closes the gap between them. His hands slip behind Steve’s neck and then, without the danger of eye contact, Steve’s lips are against Bucky’s. It’s soft and gentle, and it should be all Bucky allows for (all _Steve_ allows for), but now that he’s started he can’t stop.

Bucky’s heart drops when Steve pulls away briefly, only to come back in for another one. This isn’t good.

Steve can’t help himself from running his tongue along Bucky’s bottom lip; he’s thought about it too many times in the confines of his room when he knows he really shouldn’t. It’s then when Bucky pulls away abruptly, hands hovering in the air and not touching Steve any longer.

“You happy now?” Bucky snaps at Clint, snatching the onion ring off the counter and tossing it into the trash. Everything except for the ghost of Steve’s lips feels bitter. He pushes past Steve out of the kitchen and slams his bedroom door behind him.

This isn’t fair, Bucky thinks. He was trying hard enough as it was to keep things in Steve’s boundaries, but of all people it had to be Clint that fucked it up. His heart is racing, and he absentmindedly wets his lower lip, tongue slowing down when he remembers Steve’s last move before he freaked out. _Shit_. Bucky can’t listen to the hammering in his chest, or to the thoughts that tell him he wants – _needs_ – more. He can’t listen to it. He can’t let himself feel anything more for Steve than what is allowed.

There’s a knock on his door, and Bucky grumbles incoherently, though apparently it comes across as a positive mumbling, because his door cracks open and Steve pops his head in.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

Bucky shrugs. He’s already halfway there.

Steve sits down next to Bucky oddly not keeping his distance, so Bucky does his part and holds his arm close to his body.

“It’s okay, you know,” Steve mutters. “Just screwing around to prove a point to Clint.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“Sometimes,” Steve agrees, “So we could use every chance we get to show him up.”

Bucky nods. He knows that’s not his problem, but he’s not about to tell Steve the truth.

“Yeah.”

Steve waits a beat. “Will you come out then? They came to see you, Buck. You’ve got good friends, even if they are occasional dicks. Just loosen up tonight. You could use it.”

Coming from anyone else, Bucky would tense up and ignore what was being said. But it’s Steve, and his voice is sincere and soft and he’s nudging Bucky, because it really is okay, even if it’s not.

Bucky nods again. “Just give me a minute.” He can tell Steve wants to say more by how he lingers, but eventually he leaves without another word.

 _Stupid_.

***

“Is that nail polish?” Bucky asks, sniffing the air. They’re huddled on the couch, only Bucky’s planted his ass on the floor with his head occasionally dropping onto Steve’s knee from weariness.

“Is that a problem?” Natasha asks distractedly. Everyone looks over to see her painting her toes a deep red.

“She does some really cool designs, give her a break,” Clint mutters, turning his attention back to the film.

“You guys are watching the shittiest Transformers movie that has ever existed; I have no interest in frying my brain cells.”

“Hey, hey. What’s this about cool designs?” Steve asks, scrambling off the couch and sitting at Natasha’s feet to watch intently.

Natasha raises a brow. “You want some?”

Steve glances at Bucky and Clint. “Would that be weird?”

“Not at all.”

And that’s how Steve ends up getting a little galaxy painted onto his toenails. Bucky suspects he won’t stop admiring it for the rest of the week. He even catches Steve looking down at his toes and grinning like a dork for a second, and Bucky has never felt the urge to punch him more than then.

Between ordering Chinese, Steve shying away from a prank in front of Bucky’s friends, and their bickering, the lot of them settle down again, this time with Steve and Bucky on the couch while Natasha and Clint are squished up on the loveseat, pretending they’re not trying to cuddle. Bucky refuses to be normal and microwaves some popcorn before they eat dinner. Clint argues that warm popcorn is better and he should wait, but Bucky is rebellious, so Clint gets back at him by flicking pieces at Bucky.

Bucky and Clint start a war where they’re both attacking each other more than eating the stuff, and Steve starts to get annoyed. That’s some damn good popcorn they’re wasting!

“Stop that!” Steve protests. His outburst distracts Bucky and the piece he’s launching hits Steve smack between the eyes.

“Oops.”

Steve narrows his eyes and launches himself across the couch, hands going to Bucky’s side and tickling him mercilessly until Bucky can’t breathe and ends up falling off the couch, trying to get away from Steve. Steve is pulled down with him and lands half on top of him, but he doesn’t let up, and Bucky is gasping between his laughs.

“Get a room!” Clint jeers.

Natasha hums thoughtfully. “Don’t feel like you have to; I’d enjoy a show.”

That, plus Bucky’s left hand grappling Steve’s arm just enough to get him to relent (but never enough to hurt him), makes Steve stop.

“You’re an ass,” Bucky wheezes. Steve’s eyes flit across Bucky’s face with a fond smile, and Bucky’s breath is just about drained from him when Steve pinches his cheeks.

“I know I am.” He hops up and runs off into the bathroom, locking the door behind him to save himself from Bucky’s pathetic wrath.

“Coward,” Bucky huffs. He notices Clint and Natasha staring at him. “What?”

Clint opens his mouth, but Natasha shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Nothing,” she answers. “Nothing at all.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE: memes
> 
> The eat ass like you mean it is inspired by [this post on tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu/tagged/the+meme+fic/page/2)  
> Find me on [tumblr](http://peelace.co.vu/)
> 
> Up next: left boob grab, a sucky date, and an ex. :-)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halsey and The Weeknd were fuckin sick yesterday. I rushed right from an ochem lab final to see the show lol. ANYWAY. I need hugs. -G
> 
> I'm dumb but it's okay because I can knit -India
> 
> Warning for mentions of homophobia

**Rebuttca:** _you mean you have no explanation for why steve grabbed your boob?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _theyre pecs on men not boobs u noob._

**Rebuttca:** _double standards buck_

**Bucky Barnes:** _yea yea. tbh i have no clue. he just started doing it and didnt seem to notice so i didnt mention it_

**Rebuttca:** _…_

**Bucky Barnes:** _i should prlly ask sam._

**Rebuttca:** _probably. let me know what he says_

**Bucky Barnes:** _yeah right. u can find out urself_

***

Bucky gnaws thoughtfully on his lip as the Skype ringtone sounds, waiting for Sam to pick up.

“Heyo,” Sam says cheerfully, just as Bucky’s drawn in by the mesmerizing shift of the plates in his left hand as he clenches and unclenches his fist.

“Hey,” Bucky replies. He sits on top of his hands, trying his best not to look as sheepish as he feels.

Sam watches thoughtfully. “What’s up? You don’t normally call.”

“Hey, I reply to your texts,” Bucky protests.

Sam points at him, saying, “Yeah, but like I said, you never call. Much less video call. I’d expect this from Steve, since he calls once a week, but not you. Tell me what’s going on.”

Bucky frowns. Why does Sam think something’s going on? There’s nothing going on. Sure, he wants to ask about Steve’s weird habit, and maybe he just feels a little lonely and thought this might do him some good. Which it is (doing some good), because Bucky likes Sam – what from the few times Steve’s made them talk and whenever Sam texts him. It’s weird to think they’ve never met, yet they treat each other like regular friends, having only ever known each other through Steve.

But back to the point: has Steve ever implied that that things between them are weird to the point that something _could_ be going on? Or maybe he’s just reading too much into it.

“Bucky?”

Yeah, definitely reading too much into it.

“So what’s with Steve grabbing people’s boobs?” Bucky asks. Figures he might as well come straight out with it, right?

Sam looks taken aback for a moment, but he laughs it off and shakes his head. “Right, that. When he laughs?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that’s normal.”

“Some weird habit he’s got?” Bucky puts his laptop at the foot of the bed and sprawls across the mattress on his stomach to get more comfortable. He’s very interested in seeing what gossip Sam has to divulge.

“Pretty much,” Sam confirms. “He’s not that aware of it from what I’ve seen, so don’t bring it up to him, or he’ll probably stop doing it.”

Bucky frowns a little, then laughs at himself for thinking it’d be a shame to have Steve not grab his pec every once in a while. But that’s not what puts the concern on his face; it’s more that Sam just hinted that Steve might be more self-conscious about his quirks than he knew.

“You experienced it for the first time today, or what?”

“Oh no, he’s done it plenty of times before with me. Took him a while to get used to my friends, but one time he did it to Clint and he looked traumatized. He almost went for Nat’s boob, but I managed to block that one.” Sam whistles and grins brightly. “Yeah. And there was this sports day his school had I went to, and afterwards he invited me to grab lunch with some of his friends… Bruce, the science teacher? Oof, he was getting the brute end of it. I don’t… Steve was full on assaulting him, and poor Bruce had to step away a couple of times to defend himself.”

“No shit? Oh man I would’ve loved to see that,” Sam says wistfully. “Miss the guy. You taking care of him?” he asks, and there’s a hint of protectiveness in it that Bucky feels intimidated by. He doesn’t blame Sam for it, though. He’s just being a good friend, nothing short of what Steve deserves.

“As best as I can. Between my job, my classes, and his jobs we don’t get enough time to baby each other. Though he does nag me about eating lunch on the days I work.”

Sam keeps smiling cryptically, and Bucky wants to know what he’s thinking when he hears the door.

“Is that Steve?” Sam asks. Bucky listens closely to the footsteps, then nods.

“You wanna say hi?” Bucky asks despite knowing the answer.

“Buck? That you? Who are you talkin’ to?” Steve calls

Bucky doesn’t bother answering, and when Steve walks in and sees Sam on the screen, his expression drops into one of betrayal. He plops down beside Bucky and pouts exaggeratedly, making sure Sam can see.

“You’re talking to Sam without me? What, are you stealing my best friend now?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and uses his left hand to tuck some strands of hair behind his ear.

“What happened?” Sam asks. Bucky raises his eyebrow. “To your hand?”

Steve clears his throat and Bucky can tell he’s about to shift the topic, but Bucky doesn’t bother letting him. It’s interesting though, to think this might be the first time Sam’s asking even though he’s probably seen it in the few pictures they send his way. He’s probably not even talked to Steve about it. Bucky lifts it up into the camera view and rolls his sleeve up so Sam can see the plates extending up the length of his arm.

“What, this?” Bucky says nonchalantly. He tends to forget about it sometimes, which is strange, because it’s either that extreme, or the one where he can’t stop thinking about it. But with Steve, with his friends, it’s just something that is, and since they don’t treat it any different, neither does he.

“Bucky tried feeding the fish one time and they were really hungry. You know they’re not too friendly when that happens, so…” Steve trails off, mimicking a biting noise. Bucky stares at him.

That is the first time Steve has given an alibi. Yeah, sure, he’s always made lines like, “Is that how you lost your arm?” but that isn’t anywhere near the same. Bucky’s mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton and his chest can’t contain whatever it is he’s feeling right now.

“Steve, they’re goldfish,” Sam says. Bucky hardly hears him.

“So? Goldfish can be bloodthirsty carnivores from time to time.”

“Sure, Steve.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, just long enough for Steve to notice Bucky isn’t saying or doing anything. He looks over, and Bucky’s heart feels heavy. Uh, yeah, no. Friends.

Hello Steve! My good friend Steve! My platonic friend Steve! Hello! You are kind to me, Steve! Friends are kind to each other, right Steve? Friends are nice to each other and tease each other, right Steve? A true friend gives his friend a birthday blowjob, right Steve?

Bucky is learning the hard way that the last part is going to be the hardest thing to forget. He can pass off lingering touches and smiles that make his mind blank, and he can forget their way too frequent moments where both of them are dangerously close to overstepping. (All of these things are lies. Bucky can never forget the small things. But he ignores, that he at least tries to do.)

“You okay?” Steve whispers. Bucky swallows and nods, forcing a smile, then easing into it so it’s not false.

Sam snorts, and Steve immediately shoots him a glare. Bucky wants to laugh, but his throat is still a bit tight.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Sam mumbles.

“I detest that. Bucky is the most ridiculous. He’s ridiculous, not us collectively.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky cuts in, thankful he’s moved past his little bump. He’s anxious that Sam noticed and read way too much into it, or worse: that Steve can read him like an open book. Bucky needs to work on steeling himself over, not wearing his heart on his sleeve. It’s just too damn easy when it comes to Steve. “I do recall you being the one that has an office stocked full of – ”

“Okay, Mr. Meme Lord,” Steve retorts.

“Wait, wait,” Sam says thoughtfully. They turn their attention to the third wheel of their conversation (and Bucky feels slightly guilty for that, he does). “So you really _are_ a meme lord? Because I’ve been working on this theory that I need to share with someone, but I know no one will take me seriously.”

“Try me,” Bucky offers. Beside him, Steve sighs with resignation and lies down beside Bucky (and Bucky tries hard not to look over to see Steve stretched out on his bed), rolling his head over to rest it on Bucky’s shoulder.

“What if we Rick Rolled babies from birth? Like when the mother’s in labour, or just for the first song the kid hears, you know? How would that affect them? Would meme culture transcend into their generation to the point where they’d suddenly be aware and get taken back to the moment they were born with Rick Astley blasting around them?”

Both of them are staring at Bucky’s screen with their jaws dropped.

“First off,” Steve starts, even though the conversation is clearly not for him to partake in, judging by the narrowing eyes Sam gives him, “I don’t think a someone in labour would consent to being Rick Rolled as they push a child out of their vagina, much less their subjecting their newborn to the toxicity of a culture driven by teenagers wasting their lives away on the internet.”

“Hey!” Bucky exclaims, shrugging his shoulder harshly so Steve has to lift his head. “I’m not a teenager, and I do _not_ waste my life away on the internet. Also, meme culture is enlightening, not toxic. There are much worse things to immerse your children in from birth. And I know plenty of people who would consent to their child being Rick Rolled. Imagine how funny that would be on video! That shit would be all over America’s Funniest Home Videos.”

“I don’t think AFV allows videos of childbirth,” Sam points out, “But your point is valid. There are people who would have a good sense of humour and allow for it.”

Steve scoffs and then forces Bucky to let him rest his head on his shoulder again. “Please, the only two people I see allowing that would be you two.”

“For science!” Sam says helplessly. “Imagine! We could study the developmental effects of being Rick Rolled!”

“Sam, you need sleep.”

“That’s just rude, Rogers.”

Bucky half-heartedly listens to the two shoot things back and forth. His mind is partly dedicated to considering the potential of Sam’s suggestion, but most of it is focused on the warmth from how close Steve is. He doesn’t want to close up again. It was bad enough the first time, and his friends – and hell, even Becca who he dared to drag through that shit – took long enough trying to get him to open up enough so that he was in a safe place. He can’t imagine he’d let himself close up that much with Steve, but even the idea of trying a little bit scares him. It reminds him of the hollow void that swallowed him whole and didn’t show mercy for long enough that he lost so much of who he really is.

“Bucky?” Steve whispers. Bucky blinks the tears from his eyes. When did that happen? He looks at the screen, hoping Sam can’t see, but the laptop is shut.

“You hung up?”

“Yeah, Buck, it’s fine. Just… Are you okay?”

Bucky swallows around the lump in his throat and nods. He’s managed to hold back the tears, which would have resulted in an all-around awkward and embarrassing situation, but he’s still on edge.

_Damnit, Buck. Why do you let this happen?_

Steve sighs as Bucky stares at a spot on the bed, trying to anchor himself. Before Bucky can register what’s happening, Steve has his arms around Bucky, holding him close. The ache in Bucky’s chest numbs for a moment, just long enough for him to fixate on Steve’s breathing.

“It’s okay,” Steve mutters. It’s like he knows Bucky was ready to apologize for being weak.

***

Much to Bucky’s relief, they never address that again, and the next day when Steve’s at work and texting Bucky, everything feels the same.

**Stevie:** _The Maximoff twins keep raiding my Minions stash and drawing weird faces on them_

**Stevie:** _Like erotica_

**Bucky Barnes:** _… u might need 2 have ‘th talk’ w ur kids._

 **Stevie:** _Fuck autocorrect in the fucking ass!!! I meant emoticons!!!_

**Bucky Barnes:** _woah watch ur potty mouth there stve someone might give u teh stink eye_

**Bucky Barnes:** _lol. teh._

**Bucky Barnes:** _hey steve. rawr means ilu in dinosaur. rAWR XD RAWR 5EVA. ommmmgggg super kawaiiiiiiii XD_

**Stevie:** _…_

**Stevie:** _I Kate you._

**Bucky Barnes:** _:OOOOOOOOO OMMMMG WHO IS THIS KATE PERSON??? ARE U SEEING SOMEONE ELSE??? STEVIE I JUST SAID RAWR TO U!!!!!!!!!!!_

**Stevie:** _Fuck you! I gotta go teach a class and you have to sell some ice. Get to it._

**Bucky Barnes:** _aye aye, cap._

Bucky grins as he tucks his phone into his back pocket and glances around, letting out a dramatic huff at the lack of customers.

“Was that Steve?” India asks. She has a knack of coming out of thin air, which is strange considering her (admirably) loud personality.

“No.”

“It was Steve,” she concludes, examining Bucky’s expression before prancing back off to her department.

***

Bucky is going to kill Natasha. He weighs out his options and different strategies, knowing that somehow she’ll always gain the upper hand against him so that the tables are turned, but damnit to hell he _will_ figure out a way. In what world did she think it’d be okay to set Bucky up on a blind date with a disgustingly homophobic girl?

“Can you believe people support same-sex marriage?” the girl said, batting her eyelashes and scoffing like she’s all that. Bucky wants to stab the back of her hand with his fork.

Instead of even acknowledging her train of thought with a hum, Bucky just sips at his tea (vaguely aware of his tragic existence as a real life meme) with a passive aggressive smile. Sure sweetie, sure.

**Bucky Barnes:** _i hte ths smooch_

**Minion fucker:** _Woah you’re already on that level? And she’s that bad? Unfortunate._

**Bucky Barnes:** _typo u fckn trd_

He looks back up at the girl across from him, Samantha as she’d introduced herself, though Bucky doesn’t want to associate her with that name. He’s learnt that if he ever meets someone with the same name as someone he already knows, he’ll constantly compare them (such as Steve vs. a customer he had the other day. Flirting was off the table.) and mess up his social interactions, both present and future.

“James?” someone calls from behind them. Bucky recognizes that voice. He casts a glance over his shoulder, eyes widening when he sees who it is. Bucky turns his head back sharply, hoping the man won’t approach him even though he knows they’re far past that.

**Bucky Barnes:** _shit shit pepe is here_

**Minion fucker:** _… Who?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _pepe!!!_

**Bucky Barnes:** _o shit autocorrect fuckign_

**Bucky Barnes:** _Pete. one of my many amorous exes._

**Minion fucker:** _Who’s Pete??_

“Bucky, it _is_ you!” Pete says, and Bucky can’t really avoid him now that he’s standing right beside their table. Samantha looks peeved at the disturbance of – what Bucky suspects she sees it as – their smooth-going date.

“Hi, Pete,” Bucky says awkwardly. It’s not like he has anything against Pete. They were good together back when they had their run, and Bucky even felt more close to Pete than he had most of the people he’d ever been with, but with everything that happened in Bucky’s life amassed with the general ebb and flow of time, they split. It hurt to let go, but they both knew it was for the better. Maybe if Bucky had better control of his life they could’ve been a thing, but it’s way too late for that. Pete’s seen his ugly side, and Bucky doesn’t want to relive that. How Bucky’s supposed to face this now, he has no idea. He wishes someone wrote a “How To Deal With Your Not So Terrible Ex For Dummies” book for this moment.

“Gosh, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” Pete says wistfully, and Bucky can hear and see the sincere warmth in his speech. It makes Bucky sad for a split moment.

“Yeah, it has been.”

“How – how are you? Gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t…”

“It’s no big deal,” Bucky cuts off. He doesn’t want to address that, not in public. What they had was then, and after they broke it off, Bucky can’t blame Pete for not talking to him. “I’m good, though. You?”

“Good, good. I, uh, I have a fiancé now, actually. Roy, he’s just,” Pete pauses, scanning the restaurant until he can point him out. Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “You… you look great,” Pete mutters. It’s a gentle statement, but the way it drags Bucky back to the times they’d spent tangled together, whispering sweet nothings that would never last to each other hits Bucky like a brick wall. Pete looks good, too. He looks so good, and Bucky wonders _what if_? But that’s just life, isn’t it? So many what ifs that Bucky would have to waste a lifetime filing through his regrets.

“Could be better,” Bucky jokes half-heartedly.

“Excuse me?” Samantha bites. Bucky jerks his head to look at her. He didn’t just forget she was there, right? “We’re on a date here.”

“Oh,” Pete says. Bucky’s mouth twitches into a smile, because Pete hadn’t noticed her presence either. “Well. I should be off. Was good seeing you, Buck. I – Maybe I’ll text you later.”

“That’d be nice,” Bucky says. And it would be, if it weren’t for the fact that it was a blatant lie. They both know they’ll chicken out on texting each other, but it’s better that way.

Pete chews his lip like he has something more to say, fidgets like he wants to do something, but finally he gives Bucky a small smile and waves before heading off.

“Hello? James?”

Bucky snaps his head back, having forgotten about his date _again_. God, he’s shitty, he thinks.

“Who was _that_?” The amount of distaste in her voice reminds Bucky he is not the shitty one here.

Bucky smiles venomously. “My ex-boyfriend.”

Samantha sputters, looking around the restaurant as if she’s been offended and calls over a waiter. “Can we get the bill please?” She sneers at Bucky when she asks, “So since you’re all against tradition and the ways of nature, I guess I’m expected to pay?”

Bucky loosens up and leans back in his head, hands behind his head. “I mean if you want to, I’m not gonna stop you.”

When the waiter comes back around, Samantha slaps her card onto the table as aggressively as she can muster.

**Bucky Barnes:** _im such a shit memer._

**Minion fucker:** _How was that a meme? Also, Pete?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _… pepe._

**Minion fucker:** _How is that a meme?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _??? shoe ben are u????_

**Minion fucker:** _?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _*who even are u???_

**Minion fucker:** _Wow, look at you. What typing skills._

**Bucky Barnes:** _shut up im on a date i cant be too rude and look at my screen the whole time_

**Minion fucker:** _That text was nicely composed. So if you’re on a date, why /are/ you texting me?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _its almost over now. shes paying, so free dinner!_

**Minion fucker:** _How did you manage that?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _shes a homophobe and when pete came around u can imagine how pissed she was._

**Minion fucker:** _??? Nat set you up with a homophobe?? Also you keep going on about this Pete dude but I’ve not heard about him before._

**Bucky Barnes:** _ikr?? if i knew she couldnt turn my sorry ass into sawdust id be on my way to fuck her up rn._

**Bucky Barnes:** _are u jealous stevie?_

**Minion fucker:** _Good point. And no!!_

**Bucky Barnes:** _suuuure i believe u ;)_

**Jealous baby:** _Shut up!! I’m just curious! Get your ass home so we can gossip._

Bucky grins lopsidedly at his phone, not realizing he’s alone until he looks up and sees that Samantha has left. Good.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rick rolling bit was probably inspired by a post that somehow isn't in the tag on my blog oops. Left boob grab inspired by Chris Evans himself.   
> Sighs. 
> 
> Up next: COOKIN. CONEY ISLAND. India's fave chapter, and quite possibly mine.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals cramming, work, and some shitty nights kept me from updating on time. Sorry about that. I guess back to Friday updates since I need to delay a bit; my writing is behind schedule what with the afore mentioned hindrances. Woo. - G

On his ride back home, Bucky’s feeling good. It might be the smallest, simplest thing to say, but it’s the biggest, most relieving truth in the moment. He allows a small smile to grace his lips as he takes his various turns, not even groaning when he hits every red light possible. The wind feels glorious wrapping itself between the spaces of his open jacket and his shirt, like a cold but entirely welcome embrace. He feels a little dorky, but it’s okay because there’s no one there to see him.

Things have finally been going a little smoother for him, and it’s not just because of the newly patched up roads that previously prolonged his daily commute with their construction. He’s pulled his socks back up at work, so he’s no longer behind his greasy co-worker Trey. In fact, he’s pulling the lead with a hefty margin, and Bucky refuses to acknowledge that it has anything to do with his fabulously lush hair. Clint and Tony have both teased him about it and nagged him to cut it, but Bucky likes it. Maybe when the weather is too hot to bear he’ll do something, but for now he’s happy with how it is. It also has nothing to do with the fact that Steve has indirectly indicated his approval of it and how he loves when Steve runs his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp on the odd nights when they laze about on the couch.

College is going well too. He’s always worried he won’t be able to take it on, or that this year the work load will be worse, and he’ll handle it all just as terribly as the previous semester, but so far it’s been working out just fine. Not including, of course, the many study sessions that are interrupted by Steve, but that’s an exception to his study habits that Bucky’s willing to make.

Bucky really is smart though, and it’s only the closest of people who know it. On the outside he might look typical: mildly attractive, sarcastic with a lame sense of humour otherwise, and the type of guy who likes to poke fun at his friends. But what’s important is that Bucky knows he’s more than that, and if the high GPA he pulls out term after term is any indication of his intelligence, Bucky knows he’s capable of things. He has potential. It’s fucking great to be sure of that, at least; his efforts aren’t going to waste. God knows it took him enough to get past the anxiety of going back to college a bit older than he should’ve been (though by whose standards the age for starting college is set, Bucky isn’t sure).

And with life at home, Bucky’s okay. He can live like this, he thinks when he ascends the stairs in the building up to his apartment. He has friends that care about him, and his little sister. They’re more than he could ask for and more than he deserves, but they’ve made it clear they’re not going anywhere. For that, Bucky could not be more grateful.

And he has Steve. Steve’s another matter altogether, but when he turns the key in the lock, Bucky knows better than to overthink things. He needs to put things on a shelf and take what they have for what it is and appreciate that, because, if Bucky is entirely honest with himself, Steve might be one of the best things to have happened to him all year. Not that he’ll ever say it out loud; Steve’s ego doesn’t need boosting. Bucky smirks at his internal snide commentary and steps inside, cocking his head to one side when he sees Steve in the kitchen, his back to Bucky.

There’s a bunch of grocery bags on the counter, and Bucky can’t stop himself from the words that leave his mouth; it’s basically second nature by now. “Swiggity swag, what’s in the bags?”

Steve throws Bucky a grin over his shoulder. “How did I not see that one coming?”

“You don’t know me well enough,” Bucky claims, dropping his bag into his room before joining Steve in the kitchen and washing his hands. When he turns around, Steve is leaning back against the counter, putting on display his gaudy, housewife style floral apron.

“Nice fashion statement,” Bucky remarks.

Steve tuts and smacks Bucky’s shoulder. “Shh, I’m on a budget, it’s the best the dollar store had.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah right. You might be on a budget but you don’t buy anything if you don’t mean it. Remember your bunny slippers?”

Steve scrunches his nose. “They’re to keep my feet warm.”

“There were plenty of ‘manly’ slippers – at the same price mind you – and you opted for that pair, Steve. You have a soft spot for the bunnies.” Bucky grins when Steve doesn’t have anything to fight back with. Just as Bucky’s about to push his luck, Steve whips out a second identical apron.

“We’re cookin’ son.”

Bucky stares at the offered garment with horror. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Yes,” Steve says sweetly, “Yes you are. I would hate for you to get your clothes dirty.”

“So I’ll wear some scraps or somethin’!”

“Nah.”

“I’ll strip down?”

Steve snorts. “Nice try, but that defeats the purpose of being covered up. Wouldn’t want those pretty abs of yours to be marred just because you got a burn from a pan now, right?”

Bucky glares. His ears are not turning red, Bucky insists to his consciousness. He grudgingly accepts the apron and ties it haphazardly, not lending any regard to making sure the bows stay tied. “What are we making then? Another one of Sam’s recipes?”

“No,” Steve says, voice suddenly soft. Bucky looks over and catches the passing look of reminiscence on Steve’s face. “It’s uh… One of my mom’s. A pasta bake kind of thing, we can do white sauce or red with vegetables, just let me know what you’re in the mood for.”

“Red,” Bucky says conclusively. _Like your cheeks when you blush at the dumbest things_ , Bucky wants to add for explanation, but he knows it would risk overstepping so he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know why he thought it in the first place.

They pass some conversation around, Bucky telling him about his classes today as they cut the vegetables and prepare everything. There’re a few hollow silences, but Bucky notes Steve’s downturned mouth and gives him a little hip bump every now and then which makes Steve huff out a laugh.

By the time everything’s cut and Steve’s waiting for the sauce to cook and the pasta to boil, Bucky’s almost done washing up after them.

“Pee break, I’ll be right back,” Bucky says. Steve hums and lets him go.

Steve doesn’t typically think himself to be absent-minded, but he does get a little lost in his own head sometimes. He’s doing a good job of the cooking, he thinks, if the smell is anything to go by. As the tomatoes cook, the slight tang that lingers in the air and tantalizes his taste buds dissipates until the delectable aroma of a finely crafted tomato sauce comes about.

Steve smiles sadly as he puts the vegetables in, and the second he does he’s hit with a memory of when he used to cook alongside his mother. She always insisted he stay away in fear of getting his fragile skin burnt or cut right down to the bone, but Steve was adamant in making sure she didn’t do everything. She had enough trouble trying to raise a kid with more medical issues than tolerable, and Steve didn’t want her to take on the burden of having to feed the both of them by her own.

They didn’t have much most days, but on the odd month where they had a few extra dollars to spare – most notably on his birthday even if they couldn’t really afford the indulgence – she would whip up something special, but still basic enough that he could follow along and learn beside her the few times she did make the dishes. He remembers her stern brow whenever he got the slightest mark from touching the pot without a towel, or the fond smile she’d give him when he just grinned at her and told her he was fine (“Because I’m as strong as you, ma!”).

Bucky comes back, wiping the remaining moisture onto his jeans. He sniffs the air and groans at how good it smells, then notices Steve looks a little spaced out. A little _too_ spaced out.

“Shit!” Bucky exclaims. He darts over to Steve’s side and lifts Steve’s forearm from where it was getting burnt against the edge of the pan and curses endlessly, dragging Steve across the small space of the kitchen to run the burn under water. “Steve, what – ” Bucky starts. He means to scold Steve for letting himself get a burn after having told Bucky to wear the stupid gross floral apron to avoid just that, but stops in his tracks when he sees Steve void of expression.

Bucky’s frown deepens and he wanders off to the bathroom to get some burn cream Becca probably left lying around “just in case,” quickly getting back to Steve. He hasn’t moved from where Bucky left him standing by the sink, and the tap is still running. Bucky sighs and turns it off, then turns the almost cooked sauce on low and sits Steve down at a stool. He takes his lower lip between his teeth, careful not to press too hard with his left hand that’s holding Steve’s arm, terse with the sudden ball of anxiety and concern that’s hindering his fine motor control. Steve doesn’t react to anything and that’s killing Bucky. He wonders if this what it was like for Steve the day Bucky cut himself while washing dishes.

“Hey,” Bucky whispers, holding both of Steve’s hands in his for a quick moment. “You stay here, alright?”

Steve says nothing.

“You got the recipe out and you told me what goes next, so I’ll take care of everything else, okay?”

Still, Steve says nothing. Bucky swallows and finds it in himself to leave Steve alone for a moment, heading over to the kitchen to mix the pasta with the sauce, putting it into the baking dishes and covering the dishes copiously with cheese before sliding them into the oven.

He pops into his room and comes back out, tossing the Barnes Bear at Steve. Steve startles and looks at it, picking it up in his hands. Bucky just smiles and sits at the other end of the couch to give Steve some space, and then puts on a Cosmos episode (recall: Bucky is a nerd). He doesn’t say anything, but he watches discreetly as Steve, a huge muscular man, curls up at one end of the couch, hugging the bear tightly to his chest and not taking his eyes off the screen.

Five minutes later, Bucky’s eyebrows furrow when Steve wedges his feet under Bucky’s thigh for warmth. They stay like that for the whole documentary, save for when Bucky has to check on the pasta bake and take it out to cool. They watch another episode while they eat. At least Neil deGrasse Tyson’s attempts to simplify millennia of science into something comprehensible for a fairly young audience is engaging (or overwhelming) enough that neither of them acknowledge the lack of conversation between them.

Bucky considers ice cream therapy, but by the time the third documentary is over, Steve’s curled back up and falling asleep.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, shaking him gently. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

Steve mumbles, tossing on the couch and stretching out. Bucky takes a moment to throw the dishes in the dishwasher, and comes back over to poke at Steve who grudgingly gets up.

“St…” Bucky says awkwardly. Steve turns to him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Bucky bites down on the inside of his cheek hard and steps forward to wrap his arms around Steve for a hug. He panics when Steve doesn’t respond, and just as he starts to pull away Steve hugs him back and drops his head onto Bucky’s shoulder with a sigh.

“Thanks,” Steve says really quietly. He pulls back and offers Bucky a small smile, then nods and says, “Goodnight, Buck.”

Bucky says it back and watches Steve go to his room. He sees his bear on the couch. “Steve!”

Steve turns around in the hallway looking puzzled. Bucky tosses his bear to Steve. “For the night.” It’s stupid and vaguely childish, and he’s sure that’s what Steve is thinking when he gives Bucky a funny look. Nevertheless, he takes the offer and shuts his bedroom door behind him softly. Bucky sighs. It takes him a while to sleep that night.

***

A few weeks later, Bucky and Steve both have a day off and decide to actually get out of bed and spend some time around town. They haven’t had a lot of time to chill out between rushing in and out of the apartment, and Bucky’s coursework and exams, but now that things are a bit calmer, they can afford to waste the spare time they share.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Steve asks, sipping his tall Americano cautiously. He hates burning his tongue on hot drinks; it’s an unfair crime. A betrayal.

“I’ve got a couple of ideas,” Bucky says coyly. Steve narrows his eyes.

“Oh yeah? What does that entail?”

Bucky shrugs, looking straight ahead as they make their way down the street. “You already know we’re going Coney Island with Tasha and Clint later, but we have a couple hours to kill till then, so I thought we could catch a movie.”

“What’s on?”

“Not checked. We’ll just pick one when we get there.”

“You do realize we spend hours on end watching Netflix. We are outside. We could do something better.”

Bucky shoots him a false glare. “Oh yeah? You got any better ideas? Besides, we’re gonna go ride the Cyclone about fifty times straight afterwards. That counts as a change in activity.”

Steve huffs and shakes his head, not making to say anything more.

When they’re in the theatre, Steve leaves it to Bucky to buy the tickets while he gets some popcorn and drinks.

“What’re we watching?” Steve asks.

Bucky just grins all too innocently and doesn’t reply. “Ain’t telling. It’s a surprise.” He ushers Steve into their designated theatre, insisting on being a little shit by covering Steve’s eyes as he walks behind to ensure Steve doesn’t know what they’re about to watch.

While the trailers are running there’s an ad for some skin cream that makes Bucky snort and mutter, “Shaq,” to himself. Steve doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t ask. About halfway through the trailers, Steve’s ploughing through the popcorn, and Bucky keeps trying to stop him to no avail.

Then there’s a trailer for Jurassic World, and Bucky makes a noise.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, just. They were going to do 4D showings of this movie. Tony got me into one of the private screenings for it, but uh… It didn’t go so well.”

“Oh? I can’t imagine it’d be that bad.”

Bucky looks offended. “How could you say something so insensitive? Steve, that’s how I – the fucking Indominus Rex took off my arm! That’s why they didn’t go for 4D showings! It was too fucking dangerous!” For once, Steve didn’t see that one coming and looks startled, then laughs.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Just wait for it,” Bucky says with a grin.

Steve waits for it.

Turns out, Bucky surprises Steve by subjecting him to the torture of the Minions movie.

***

Clint and Nat (which Bucky is ridiculously tired of saying and has resorted to saying ‘Clintasha’ – that never goes over well with Natasha) meet the two of them just outside the entrance to Coney Island well after three o’clock.

“Wow, he must’ve tied you to the bed something fierce since you’re so late,” Clint says to Bucky when him and Steve are within earshot.

“Actually it was me that held us back,” Steve cuts in with an innocent grin. “Sorry about that.”

“What are you doing?” Bucky hisses, pointedly jabbing Steve in the side.

Steve keeps his grin directed at Clint as they get closer to the couple. “Just go with it.”

Bucky knows that nothing good ever follows those four words.

“Any of you boys hungry?” Natasha says, snapping a bubble between her lips and chewing, her sunglasses shading her eyes. “Because I need to grab some food before we start this joyride.”

“Damn, you should’ve told us we were going to eat first thing. Steve and I wouldn’t have stuffed our faces at the movies if we’d known.”

Clint and Natasha share a quick look, but neither of them says a word. “Whatever,” Natasha mutters, “You guys can wait.”

Bucky lags behind the other two when Steve grabs him by the crook of his arm. “You wanna fuck about with Clint?”

“Do I ever pass up a good opportunity?”

“Awesome. Let’s play up our married couple role today.”

Steve doesn’t give Bucky a chance to formulate a reply before he pulls ahead, catching up to Natasha and babbling with her about flexibility in her workout plans. Even though Steve caught him off guard, Bucky’s not averted to the idea. Clint’s too easy to get to sometimes, and if all he has to do to mind-fuck Clint is act cuddly and cute with Steve, well. Bucky’s willing to take one for the team.

Bucky and Steve end up grabbing too much funnel cake (because, hey, it’s Coney Island, it’s late spring, and it’s a one-time thing. They’re allowed to be gross, especially when Steve tries to keep their home cooked meals healthy, which usually results in a lot of whining on Bucky’s part), while Clintasha purchase “real” food, though the definition of “real” is pretty broad in a place where pretzels and soda pass as a full meal.

It’s not long after that, between a few novelty games and chill rides, that Natasha persuades everyone to line up for the Cyclone. They all know it’s a bad idea: greasy food plus rollercoaster equals guaranteed quality time with a trash can. After being forced for a second round – the first one having left the boys a little queasy – Natasha is peachy keen, having held down her food quite immaculately. The boys, on the other hand, are green in the face and making a beeline for the bins. Natasha films them on her phone, making sure she catches Steve rubbing Bucky’s back when he’s done with his own wretch-fest.

“Can we take a break? Somethin’ easy?” Bucky pleads.

“Wuss,” Clint mutters bitterly.

Natasha raises her eyebrow at Clint and replies, “You want to go again?” It has the intended effect of painting an expression of horror on Clint’s face, also getting him to clamp his mouth shut. Sometimes Bucky loves Natasha.

“How about the carousel?” Steve suggests.

“’M not sure if going up and down at unconventionally high speeds is advisable for my stomach right now,” Bucky says weakly. Natasha is smirking so hard that Bucky remembers he also sometimes hates her.

“True. Big Top Express.”

“The little train that goes on a round track?” Clint snorts. “That shit’s for kids.”

“You think you’re anything more than one?” Natasha comments. Two points for Nat. “I could drag you all to the Tea Party.” Two points against Nat.

“Big Top Express it is.” Clint accepting defeat is about the only thing going for Bucky right now.

They make it to the kid’s ride and end up going in separate carriages, Bucky and Steve squished together in one, and Clintasha in another behind them (“If you keep calling us that I’m going to call you Stucky.” “Nat, please that sounds so gross, please don’t, please.”).

On their second lap, Steve looks over to Bucky with an odd smile. He drapes an arm across the back of the carriage around Bucky’s shoulders and whispers, “Throw your head back and laugh like I said something really funny.”

“Is that your idea of tricking Clint? The most fucking cliché fake move ever?”

“Just do it!”

Bucky rolls his eyes but follows his orders, his laugh turning genuine halfway through when he feels utterly ridiculous for having done it.

“Also,” Steve says, his warm breath hitting the shell of Bucky’s ear. Bucky does not shiver (he does _not_ ). “I’m supposed to be whispering romantic shit right now, alright? Be all gross and cute.”

“Excuse me? I’m always cute.”

“You’re hot, there’s a difference,” Steve says automatically. He snaps his mouth shut. This time, Bucky laughs properly and Steve punches him in the arm. “Stupid.”

Steve chances a quick glance over their shoulders to see Clint watching them intently, making a gagging motion when he sees Steve turn. Natasha has her phone camera pointed right at them.

“Hey Buck,” Steve whispers, and _Goddamn_ he has to stop doing that. “Smile for the camera.”

“Huh?” Bucky turns around when he realizes what Steve’s words entail, and is completely caught off guard when Steve kisses his cheek. Bucky’s eyes widen, his cheeks colouring almost instantly. Natasha is catching this all on camera. Bucky turns abruptly in his seat, avoiding Natasha’s devious little device. Fuck technology, man.

When the lot of them have had their fill of little kids screaming over a track that goes in an oval, they get off and ignore the dirty looks a few parents shoot them. Apparently being an adult on a kid ride isn’t socially acceptable.

They pass the night with more rides, eventually going on the Tea Party (Clint’s guilty pleasure), and even stomaching the Electro Spin and the Luna 360 (which, again, Natasha forced them into, despite Bucky’s arguments that he should be exempt from the torture since she set him up for dinner with a homophobe, but Nat fought back by saying she didn’t know and would never _do_ that to him, and Bucky fell for it, of course he did. It had nothing to do with Steve whining at him to join them). Between exhausting all the rides and the setting sun, the couples end up splitting off when Bucky and Steve have to go toilet.

“Shit,” Bucky curses when they’re out. “This fucking crowd doesn’t die out, does it? How are we supposed to find them?”

“You have a phone,” Steve points out. Bucky makes a face.

“There are too many people and too many places that look all the same. Nat is too short to pick out her hair in this mess, and Clint... Nothing stands out there.”

“Rude,” Steve mutters.

**Bucky Barnes:** _tf r u guys???_

**Clinturd:** _tf r U guys???? asshole we’re right where u left us_

Bucky huffs and opts for calling Clint, though it’s absolutely stupid and pointless, and Clint doesn’t hesitate to tell him so.

“Hang on,” Clint says over the phone, “I’ve got an idea.”

Bucky lets him hang up and waits.

Then, above the din of the crowd, there’s a faint voice that calls, “Bucky and Steve aren’t married!”

Bucky doesn’t even have time to prepare himself before he’s being jerked by his left arm, Steve navigating them through the crowd with a scowl on his face. He’s convinced that if it were his right arm, Bucky’d have a hell of a story to tell the customers at work as to why he lost his other arm.

“I told you it’d work,” Clint says proudly. Natasha rolls her eyes, having raised her glasses into her hair at some point.

They decide it’s about time to go, but settle on trying out a few booths before leaving. Steve and Natasha are leading the way while Clint and Bucky hold back, careful to only keep back a few inches so as not to lose them.

“Are you sure you guys aren’t fucking?” Clint asks. He’s so confused.

Bucky looks at the back of Steve’s neck, trailing his eyes down to Steve’s ass, a flash of heat then pulling him back to earth. _Keep your head on straight, Barnes_.

In response, Bucky just shrugs.

The last thing they do before leaving is end up at a shooting game. In reality, Steve should not be the one to win the giant teddy bear, but that’s what happens. On his turn, Clint was too busy trying to watch Nat – since she refused too often to show him her skill on his range – and Natasha’s aim was ruined by a snotty little five year old who happened to dead leg her at the worst possible moment. Clint only felt it fair to sabotage Bucky.

So, Steve has a giant fluffy bear and no idea what to do with it. Logically, he gives it to Bucky, whose little blush is veiled by the colours of the sunset.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Clint says under his breath. Bucky grins like a little kid the whole way out of the park, and he can’t even convince himself he’s doing it just to keep up the act.

The four of them split on their way home, taking separate taxis. With the weight of greasy, sticky food in their stomachs and the sudden calm, Bucky ends up falling asleep, dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve doesn’t mind one bit.

When the cab driver pulls up to their building, Bucky doesn’t budge. Steve rolls his eyes and sighs, paying the driver and climbing out, then dragging Bucky and the teddy out behind him. He stares at Bucky for a moment, hoping he’s not going to make him do this. Steve knows he’s fucking awake, and Bucky knows that Steve is well aware of this, but he doesn’t stop pretending to be asleep.

Steve does the only thing he can and picks Bucky up bridal style, pulling the teddy bear into Bucky’s lap and carrying them both into the building. He takes the elevator though. Steve can lift, sure, but he’s not _that_ insane. Not tonight, anyway.

With some difficulty opening the door, they make it inside, and Steve tucks Bucky into bed with the giant bear on the other side. He rolls his eyes fondly and presses a fleeting kiss to Bucky’s forehead before leaving.

Steve’s phone buzzes when he’s back in his own room.

**Buckeye:** _nood night_

Steve decides he’ll get back at Bucky for that typo in the morning.

(Bucky did it on purpose.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel less optimistic as I go along why is that???? ANYWAY. Hope y'all are having a great year n that if you have/had finals you're doing GREAT because I know u can do it!!!!!   
> Also I know the minions movie comes out much later than this timeline is going with but just.... it's AU for a reason, okay?
> 
> Up next: Cassie Lang. :-)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS MY BABIES AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND UNDERSTANDING. With India's little not last week our word count was at 66666 and the kudos are currently racked at 666 >.> ALSO WE HAVE 12k HITS!!!! That's fucking ridiculous... Thank you guys so much you're more than I ever could've asked for from this and I know my chapters are short and the ongoing endless friend zoning is intolerable but it will be finISHED ONE DAY. Ahhh. I want to hug u all. (Also finals went pretty decently for all those who'd wished me luck, so thank you :*) -G
> 
> Merry Christmas losers ❤️ -India

“Stop taking pictures!” Steve complains, shoving his hand at the lens so Bucky can’t get his face into the shot.

“I’m supposed to make good use of this camera and I have to practice if I want to learn how to use it right, Stevie,” Bucky argues, flipping open the flash and holding down the button so that it takes a burst of pictures. “Smile for the paparazzi!”

“Buck!” Steve says, laughing as he grabs for the camera, settling for tickling Bucky vehemently when he doesn’t stop.

“Steve, no!” Bucky yells, quickly putting the camera on the coffee table.

“Too late, you should’ve listened when I told you to stop!” Steve shouts back, laughing over Bucky’s gasps. They end up with Steve on top, hovering over Bucky. He grins and pinches Bucky’s cheek, making Bucky groan with displeasure. “I found a good name for your new friend.”

“You’re changing your name?” Bucky asks cheekily. Steve narrows his eyes and taps the tip of Bucky’s nose, and Bucky has to push down the flutter in his stomach.

“No, you ass. Your bear.”

“Oh? And what gives you naming priveleges?”

“Maybe the fact that I won it for you?” Steve points out. It’s a good point.

“What you got?” Bucky asks.

“Beary.”

Bucky gawks up at Steve and shoves him onto the floor. “That’s a shitty name. It’s a good name, but I’m not… No punny names.”

“You call my fish Window,” Steve says.

“With how much I feed that thing, it’s pretty much ours. I say Atticus.”

“Atticus? The fuck, Barnes? Switch some of the letters and you get Assicut, why would you want that?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, sitting up on the sofa. “Of coure _you_ would say that. It’s a cool name. I get the final say. And _Assicut_ , really? That’s your best insult for the name?”

“But I used a name generator for Beary!” Steve says dejectedly.

“You used a name generator for the most obvious pun,” Bucky deadpans. Steve freezes, not having realized that that is indeed what he did. “Christ, you’re ridiculous.”

“Shut it,” Steve mumbles. Bucky’s about to tease him some more when Steve’s phone rings.

“Who calls people on the phone anymore?” Bucky asks. Steve shoots him a warning glare.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t because I’ve witnessed it plenty of times.” He grabs his phone and picks up. “Hello?”

“Hey! Steve! It’s Scott… Scott Lang?” comes the voice from the other end of the phone.

Steve perks up at the name and Bucky frowns unexpectedly. “Yeah, hey! Oh man it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you! How are you?”

“I’m good, good. You?”

“I’m pretty good too. How’s Cassie?”

“She’s good,” Scott replies, a slight hesitation in his tone. “That’s actually what I was calling about.”

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks, turning away from Bucky’s attempts to make him laugh by pulling dumb faces.

“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s great. It’s just that I’m in town on a business trip, and I couldn’t leave Cassie back home because her mom and… she’s off on a vacation and Sam is busy to the brim with work. I don’t suppose you could recommend any trustworthy babysitters in the neighbourhood?”

Steve smiles fondly. “Yeah, as long as I’ve been here I’ve not needed a babysitter. But I could take care of her if you want. When do you need me?”

“Uhh… Is today pushing it?”

Steve chews on his lip. He does have a shift tonight, but he could always cancel. “Not at all. Just let me know when you want to drop her by and I’ll forward you the address, alright?”

“Yeah, awesome. Thank you so much, Steve. Seriously.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll uh… Food wise she’s good with pretty much save for a nut allergy, but you can order something if you need to. It’ll be around noon till eleven. Is that okay?”

“Works just fine,” Steve assures Scott. He pauses. “Late meeting?”

“Yeah, some business with Stark Industries.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Steve replies. “Tony likes to work every waking moment.”

After explaining briefly how he knows Tony – thus including a mention of Bucky and having to deal with Bucky pinching him when he tells Scott what a little shit his roommate is – Steve hangs up.

“What was that?” Bucky asks.

Steve sighs, staring forlornly at his phone. Couple hundred bucks down the drain, but it’s nothing he can’t recover another night with a little more skin and a little less inhibition. “We’re babysitting tonight.”

“What?”

“My friend Scott from D.C. has a kid. She’s, like, four or five now. We gotta take care of her while he and Stark party it up all night.”

“One: when Stark says he’s got business, it’s real business,” Bucky counters. “Two: _you_ are babysitting. I have work.”

“Yeah, from three till eight. She’s here at noon.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose, but doesn’t say anything more to argue. He kind of misses the days when he had to be a big brother to Becca and make sure she didn’t run into the adjoining corners of a wall, anyway.

Scott drops by around twelve-thirty, apologizing for being late since they stopped for lunch and got mixed up in a few toy and candy stores. “Stark’s not called us in till later anyway, but I have a few errands to run before I go, plus a few security things to clear at his place since I’m going there for the first time,” he explains.

“Don’t worry about it. Anything in particular the little runt doesn’t like? Or something she does?”

“Ants,” Scott answers quickly. “She loves them. It’s kind of gross some days, but she’s a kid. Likes what she likes. And for what she doesn’t like: she’s a pretty tough kid. So long as you get her to sleep before nine she won’t get wound up and cranky enough to have the whole building at your doorstep telling you to shut her up.”

Cassie cuddles against her dad’s chest, hesitant to part with him. She knows Steve from before, but it’s been a while since she saw him. That, plus seeing a man with a scarily fascinating shiny arm behind him is making her nervous.

“Alright, honey,” Scott says, kneeling down and setting her in front of him. He pushes some hair out of her eyes and puts on his cheesiest dad grin. “Daddy’s gonna see you _reaaaal_ soon, okay? I’m gonna leave you with Uncle Steve and you guys are going to have _sooooo_ much fun.”

Cassie’s bottom lip trembles dangerously, and she throws her arms around her dad’s neck, not letting him go. “Miss you,” she sniffles, hanging on a bit longer before Scott finally pries her off with minimal resistance.

“Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too.”

He gives her one last kiss on the head before standing up straight and saying bye to Steve and Bucky, then leaves.

Steve and Bucky have a child to watch over. Swell.

Bucky stares at Cassie, who stares back, her saucer large eyes flickering to the metal of his arm. Bucky feels guilty for it for a minute; it’s clearly scaring her, and he doesn’t want a little kid to…

“You wanna touch it?” Bucky asks, crouching down to her level. Cassie grips onto the straps of her little green backpack tightly, glancing up at Steve like he’s the figure of authority now that her dad’s gone.

“Go on,” Steve encourages her, “He won’t bite.”

Cassie smiles a little at that, stepping forward and cautiously reaching out her hand. Thanks to Stark’s impeccable technology that he’s had years to perfect (with many, _many_ malfunctions in the past that caused Bucky to scream in pain and want to strangle his best friend), Bucky feels the second Cassie’s warm fingers make contact with his arm. She giggles, and that alone makes Bucky smile. She suddenly looks focused and determined, studying the arm as best as a five year old can and running her fingers along the grooves of the overlapping plates.

“You got hurt?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies quietly. She nods solemnly and throws her arms around Bucky’s neck, catching him off guard and making him topple backwards onto his butt. “Hey there,” Bucky says, his voice warm with amusement.

“You’re good now,” Cassie says, stating it like it’s a fact that’s either been true for a while, or only true because she somehow fixed all his problems with her hug. Either way, Bucky grins at her.

“Yeah. I’m good now.”

“Good.”

After that, it doesn’t take long for her to start bouncing off the walls, asking Uncle Steve (which Bucky will tease Steve about for weeks on end) where his goldfish are and staring mesmerized at them for all of forty second before losing interest.

“What say we watch a movie?” Steve tries desperately. Bucky bites back his smile. It’s not even that far into the day and Steve sounds like he’s already done for.

“Daddy says you have ant movies,” Cassie says, unzipping her backpack and astonishingly pulling out an ant plushy.

“What the…” Bucky mutters under his breath. He’s got to find out where Scott got that for her. Maybe he can find an awesome spider for Nat. Never hurts to be on her good side.

“We have Netflix?” Steve offers. Cassie doesn’t make sense of this, however, so Steve gets to seeing what ant movies are on Netflix for her.

“What…” Bucky starts quietly, seating himself beside Steve. “What do you do with kids? Do you know what to do with kids?”

Steve gives him an amused glance before going back to his hunt. “I used to watch her sometimes back in D.C. before I moved, yeah. Done a few favours for other friends I had there, too. Have you not dealt with kids before?”

“Not… since Becca. Not many that I actually had to watch over without a parent looming over me to make sure I didn’t mar their child.”

Steve lets out a short laugh. “It’s pretty simple. Just ask them what they want to do, and you do it.”

“Oh. So we just. Watch the movie?”

Steve looks at Bucky fondly. “Uhuh. You can go study if you want, I can just chill with Cassie.”

Bucky frowns a bit, considering. “Nah. I wanna stay here. I’d rather give you company, anyway,” Bucky says, then quickly adds, “And her. It’s been a while; it’d be good to look after a kid.”

Steve gives him a strange look, and Bucky has to swallow down the lump in his throat that’s suddenly lodged there, forcing him to rethink what he said. Where did _that_ come from?

Unfortunately, instead of watching a movie about two animated ants fall in love, Cassie wants to watch a documentary. Which means they end up watching footage of massive ant colonies moving in giant swarms. Bucky squirms uncomfortably. He’s usually not bothered by these things, but he can’t help but to imagine feeling that all across his body. It grosses him out to say the least, and he ends up burrowing his face into Steve’s shoulder with little pitiful groans. Steve just laughs at him, which is very, very cruel, and Bucky makes sure to point that out with an angry pout.

“Are you two dating?” Cassie asks innocently after having torn her attention away from the screen.

“How many times are we going to hear that,” Bucky grumbles, suddenly more conscious of his physical closeness to Steve. Over the months they’d both gotten used to it, so doing that wasn’t that big a deal, but every time when he’s reminded that people outside of just the two of them don’t know how regular the physical contact is for them, he backs off.

 _It’s just a kid_ , Bucky thinks to himself. He shrugs and shuffles even closer to Steve, dropping his head onto his shoulder. Steve is warm, okay?

“No,” Steve answers her with a warm laugh. “Bucky could do much better than me, couldn’t you Buck?”

Bucky frowns. Surely Steve can’t possibly think that. Instead of answering he presses himself against Steve’s side further, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“You’re awful cuddly today,” Steve observes quietly once Cassie has lost interest in their strange dynamics. Bucky hums. He loves the way Steve feels. Cuddling is always awesome, and Bucky found that out years ago in one of his darkest times. Somehow it always makes a shitty day brighter, and a good day even better. Steve is the best person he’s had to cuddle yet. He smells good – of soap and spice and something so inherently Steve that Bucky could never put a name to it – and his body temperature is always accommodating for Bucky’s, neither too hot nor too cold. It doesn’t hurt that Bucky gets to feel the expanse of muscle beneath Steve’s shirts, either.

He stays like that for the rest of the movie and through part of the animated one that Cassie had refused earlier until he has to head off for his shift.

“I’ll see you guys later tonight,” Bucky says upon leaving.

He hears Steve call, “Take care!” just before he locks up and can’t help the rush of warmth that courses through him.

What a pal.

***

Bucky smiles absentmindedly while he turns the key in the lock, already hearing Steve’s voice through the door. While most adults pitch their voice up a few octaves and patronize the child, Steve’s pretty normal with Cassie from what Bucky’s seen, which is why he’s surprised when he hears, “Why, Princess Cassie, I would very much love a cup of tea, thank you.”

Bucky bites back his grin as he slips into the apartment, catching sight of Steve with his knees tucked up to his chest, Cassie opposite him with her ant plushy on the floor. Steve has their mugs out on the floor with a couple small plates and some cupcakes that, judging by the smell, Steve and Cassie made in the time he was gone.

“Does Prince Bucky get one of those cupcakes?” Bucky asks, reaching down to grab one from the floor, but Cassie swats his hand away.

“No. Prince Bucky has to go put his bag away and wash his hands, then he can come. Princess Steve made these cupcakes very special.”

Bucky raises his eyebrow at a rather flustered Steve, as if saying _Princess?_ without offending Cassie.

He does as he’s told and comes back, sitting next to Cassie and asking politely, “May I have one now, Princess Cassie?”

Cassie purses her lips in thought, her brows drawn close. She shakes her head, and Bucky’s grin drops. His stomach rumbles at the mere smell, and damnit he _knows_ how good Steve’s cupcakes are.

“You have to give some to your Princess Steve first.”

“ _My_ Princess Steve?” Bucky asks incredulously. He grins devilishly at Steve and wiggles his eyebrows. Steve scoffs.

“Wasn’t my choice,” he grumbles.

“Course it was, silly!” Cassie cuts in. _Oh,_ Bucky thinks, _this will be interesting_. “I told you every princess has to have a prince and you had to choose yours and you chose Bucky!”

Steve groans, burying his face in his hands to try and hide his rapidly reddening cheeks. Bucky swallows his shit-eating grin, leaving behind an almost shy smile as he grabs a cupcake and taps Steve on the arm.

“Dearest Princess Steve,” Bucky says smoothly, forcing down the butterflies he feels when Steve lifts his head and looks at him through his lashes. “Would you like a cupcake?”

Steve is turning a beautifully satisfying shade of red, giving Bucky a forlorn look that also reads as, ‘ _You really don’t have to do this_ ’. Luckily for Steve, Bucky isn’t one to back down from a challenge. Steve caves, mostly because he knows Cassie will have at him if he doesn’t say yes. He goes to pluck the cupcake from Bucky’s fingers, not expecting Bucky to unwrap the thing and try to feed him.

“Uh,” Steve mutters. Bucky’s smile is sincere and hardly joking for once in his goddamn life and Steve can’t stop Bucky from feeding him the fucking cupcake. He only takes a bite before taking the thing off of Bucky. If he let Bucky feed him the whole thing, Steve’s face would probably burst with all the blood that’s rushing up to his cheeks. That wouldn’t go over well with Scott (“Oh yeah, Steve got so flustered by Bucky feeding him a cupcake that he exploded and his blood is now all over your daughter”).

The whole thing is absolutely ridiculous, and Bucky spends the rest of the tea party with his heart in his throat. When his stomach grumbles again reminding them all that no one’s had a real dinner yet, Bucky jumps up to call in for pizza having asked who wants what.

“Steve,” Bucky says, nudging him while Cassie is enthralled with an episode of Adventure Time.

“Hmm?”

“We should put on a show for her when the pizza comes.”

“What do you want to do?” Steve asks without missing a beat. Bucky finds that incredible.

They devise a plan and wait. This might be their best one yet.

***

“Scar!” Bucky calls, gripping onto the sides of the couch theatrically. “Brother! Help me!”

Cassie stands by the door where the delivery boy watches with bewilderment.

Steve paints on a predatory smile – which should not look that good on anyone, especially someone who Bucky isn’t allowed to fuck – and grips onto Bucky’s hands, refraining from digging his nails into Bucky’s hands like Scar does in The Lion King. He leans in close, and Bucky almost falters and breaks character.

“Long live the king,” Steve says dubiously, and Bucky’s eyes double in size before Steve lets go of his hands, Bucky falling back onto the floor dramatically.

“Nooo!!!” Cassie yells, filling in for Simba. With her uncontrollable giggling, she’s not exactly the most convincing. She runs over to Bucky and hops on top of him without abandon, but thankfully he sees it coming and grabs her by the sides before his stomach ends up taking the brunt of it. She grins down at him and hugs him tightly. “You’re okay, Uncle Buck. I saved you!”

Bucky laughs breathlessly, half registering that Steve is at the door paying while the rest of him is focused on the little girl before him. He hugs her back just as enthusiastically, grinning into her shoulder. If only she knew how much it means to him.

This could quite easily be the best night he’s had in a while.

***

Yeah, this is definitely the worst night of his life.

That’s a mean exaggeration though. It’s not Cassie’s fault; Scott had warned him that she’ll get cranky nearing on nine. It’s past nine.

She started out with little sniffles, and before Steve could do anything about it she burst out crying.

Steve looks like he’s panicking. He’s tried everything he can, but Cassie won’t have it.

“Here,” Bucky says, coming up beside Steve. “Let me try.”

For lack of anything better to do, Steve lets him. Bucky smiles apologetically and looks at Cassie, still wailing at the top of her lungs.

“Hey, buddy,” Bucky says soothingly. “Are you okay?”

He winces when he’s met with a fresh bout of tears.

“Hey sweetie, I know you’re tired and upset that your daddy’s away, but we’re here, yeah? Uncle Steve and Uncle Buck. We’re takin’ good care of you, right? And I know _just_ the thing to make you feel better.”

Cassie cuts down her wails to little weeping sobs between sniffles. She looks interested, and that’s a win enough.

“C’mon, my room’s just over there,” he points. “I have a _big_ bear I think you’ll like.”

Before Bucky can get up from his crouch to take her hand and lead her there, Cassie zips up and off the couch into Bucky’s room. She comes rushing out with the Barnes Bear in hand.

Bucky swallows thickly. That’s not the one he meant. He feels his heart clench a little. He wants to go over there and take it off of her; he can’t risk the thing getting messed up. There’s only one damn Barnes Bear in the world, and it’s his. Yeah, he’ll toss the guy around, but he’s always careful about it. Kids are unpredictable. He almost gives in to the anxiety pricking at the back of his mind when he lets his eyes trail down to where Cassie is gripping the bear’s hand tightly.

She notices him looking and pulls the bear in tight to her chest.

Bucky kneels on the floor and forces a smile. “C’mere. I wanna tell you somethin’ about that guy.”

Cassie does as she’s told, rushing over to sit in Bucky’s lap.

“This guy, he’s the Barnes Bear. My mom gave him to me when I was little, like you.” Bucky shifts a little until they’re more comfortable, letting Cassie curl up against him while she holds the bear before her, Bucky running his fingers through its short, worn down fur. He tells her a couple of stories about the teddy, about how his mom would give him all sorts of little stories for its origin, and all the adventures the two of them went on.

Bucky’s too occupied in his reminiscing to notice the way Steve’s watching him, but that’s probably for the better.

It’s not long before Cassie dozes off in his lap.

“I’ll tuck her into bed,” Steve whispers, crouching down to scoop her up from Bucky’s lap and take her into his room.

When he returns, Bucky’s smiling wistfully. “Almost miss all the noise the lil tyke made, huh?”

Steve ducks his head. “Yeah. She’s a great kid.”

Bucky nods, standing up and stretching. Man, taking care of a child is exhausting.

**Manic Mechanic:** _Scott wanted me to tell you he’ll be late. Sorry for keeping him. Is the kid okay?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _in bed n well fed. tell him she’s great and we’re prlly gonna sleep. he can call us when he comes around to pick her up._

“What now?” Bucky asks.

“I can take the couch,” Steve says, but Bucky frowns.

“You don’t have do,” he mutters, almost reluctantly.

Steve looks confused. “I don’t want to wake her up, it was hard enough getting her to sleep. I can’t make any noise going into my room.”

Bucky clears his throat, not meeting Steve’s eyes as he clarifies, “No you… I can put Atticus on the floor.”

It’s an open enough invitation that Steve’s welcome to decline (but Bucky doesn’t want him to, _God_ , he doesn’t want that).

After brushing their teeth and changing, Bucky thinking it smart to at least keep on a pair of trousers, the two of them climb into Bucky’s bed, careful to keep their distance.

Somewhere in their slumber, Steve rolls around and Bucky presses back, and by the time Scott calls, their legs are a tangled mess.

It goes unmentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^^ Hope you guys have a fantastic holiday season and y'all know that if you ever need a lil support both India and I are open for it on tumblr (bkcybvrnes and legpace) 
> 
> Up next: Steve talks to Sharon (who, by the way, is not in any way related to Steve's Peggy I forgot to mention that lolol), Steve goes on a dinner date, and shit goes down. Nice.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!!! Damn I hope 2016 treats us all better than 2015 did. Also... the year of civil war... hell yeah. I've now seen Star Wars ep VII three times and I have a hasbro remote controlled BB-8. I'd say 2015 ended on an okay note. It's been a hectic, hectic winter break, but I think I'm finally catching up to where I used to be in that I am back to being SUPER excited to write. Enjoy? -G
> 
> happy new year folks and enjoy this lovely chapter :) -India
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings at the end

Bucky wakes when Steve’s phone starts ringing, taking a moment to realize where the extra warmth is coming from, then taking another moment to wrap his head around the proximity between himself and Steve. He doesn’t have much time to do anything besides hazily – and subconsciously, so he will argue to his grave – push towards Steve before he wakes up.

Steve makes a surprised squeak, forcing Bucky to supress his smile as he plays like he’s asleep and waits as Steve untangles himself from Bucky and grabs his phone.

“Yeah?” Steve whispers, his voice rough from sleep. Bucky squeezes his eyes tight. “Scott? You’re here? Alright, yeah, I’ll buzz you up.” Pause. “No, no, I’m just whispering because Bucky’s asleep. Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Bucky feels Steve’s hesitance before he gets up, but Bucky holds to feigning sleep. He doesn’t know if Steve feels awkward about this, but Bucky sure as hell doesn’t. He’s not sure if he should feel guilty about that. Either way, if Steve felt awkward about it, it would make everything weird and Bucky doesn’t want that.

He listens to the sounds of the apartment, of Steve shuffling to the front door and of Scott coming to the door, the two of them speaking in hushed tones.

“Thanks again for doing this, Steve. I’m sorry it was so last minute and that I’m late, but it means a lot,” Bucky hears Scott say from, presumably, outside Steve’s bedroom door.

Bucky lies on his back and relaxes his closed eyes, a moment of bliss passing over him. Everything has been crystal clear from the get go: nothing more than friends for Steve. He’s thought about asking why a friends with benefits thing can’t work out, but after Bucky’s birthday and Steve’s simple ‘blank slate’ thing, it was pretty much shot down before he even got the chance to ask.

“Don’t mention it. Any time you’re in town and need a favour please, call me.”

But with the way things have been going recently, who can blame Bucky for being a little hopeful? Granted he’s rebuilt himself to have a more optimistic look on things, but he can’t say it’s the most farfetched thing he’s dreamt about. And Steve… Steve’s got his inhibitions, that’s to say the least, but maybe he just needs time, to take things slow. Bucky knows it’s highly unlikely, that things don’t just work like that, but who knows? Maybe in all their close encounters Steve will open up to the idea and realize that it’s something they can do.

“Hey, sweetie,” Scott coos to Cassie. Bucky can picture her tiredly burrowing into his chest, and he smiles at the thought. “Sorry to wake you up.” There’s a quiet weeping that Bucky can only assume is her protesting to being disturbed. “Daddy’s here, you’re okay. You have fun with Uncle Steve?”

Bucky hears a sniffle, followed by a weak, “And Uncle Buck.” His chest swells. Sometimes have a little kid’s approval means the world.

Bucky’s mind flips back to Steve (doesn’t it always?), and he thinks about it a bit more. Maybe he shouldn’t harbour such wishful thinking, and maybe he shouldn’t spend time being hung up on this – especially when he almost let it drop – but he can’t help it. If they ease into it however they do, Bucky will be glad for it. He thinks Steve is worth it.

It’s decided then: take it a step at a time. Go with the flow. Bucky almost snorts as the saying crosses his mind, but he hears Steve shut the door.

Bucky subconsciously stops breathing, listening as close as he can. Steve’s going to come back, right?

He hears Steve make his way to Bucky’s room and open the door, and Bucky’s heart is in his throat.

Steve stops halfway the distance to the bed. Bucky can’t help thinking what Steve is going to do, the pulse deafening in his ears praying Steve will join him again.

Steve hesitates long enough that Bucky considers saying something, but just as he decides to break his act, Steve turns on his heel and retreats to his own room.

Bucky’s heart sinks. His hopefulness may have just been crushed, but better now than later, right? Bucky bites his lower lip hard as he rolls onto his side, pulling the blanket tight around him. It’s not the same.

 _What were you thinking?_ Steve berates himself. He doubts he _was_ thinking at all, considering that his sleepy body had moved to Bucky’s room without his meaning to. He climbs into his own bed.

Both of them stay awake far too long, bodies and minds too aware of the lacking warmth that they had provided each other. Both of them fall asleep confused and inexplicably upset.

***

“Are you going to talk to me, or is avoiding your co-worker your new way of showing your professionalism in the workforce?”

Steve snaps his head up from his notebook that Sharon eyeballs but doesn’t say anything about. He only slams it shut out of habit more than that he’s hiding something, anyway. He’s not keen having other peoples’ eyes on his work. She smiles easily and pushes off the doorframe before seating herself atop one of the rare empty spaces on his desk.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, throat dry. It’s a stupid thing to ask, and Sharon rolling her eyes only makes him feel dumber.

“It’s after hours. The school is cleared out, and I want to know the truth. So, Mr. Rogers, tell me about your side job.”

Steve huffs, putting his notebook away and figuring he might as well pack up to go home while he evades eye contact as he explains his situation.

When he turns around, Sharon’s eyebrows are practically at her hairline.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he says desperately. “I’ll get fired if even one more co-worker finds out and blabs. I have to be more careful about the clientele I approve of for individual jobs but… Please, Sharon.”

“You don’t have to worry, Steve,” Sharon says, thankfully serious and rather concerned. “But you do know this means I actually _do_ expect a piece of smut on my desk by Friday. And none of that vanilla stuff, either.”

Steve groans into his hands. “You’re killing me, Carter. If I even attempted it, I would blush so hard you wouldn’t even believe I’m a stripper. Your deadline is way too short for how agonizingly long it would take for me to get past my own embarrassment.”

“So you’ll do it?” Sharon asks in an overly enthusiastic way that suggests Steve has no choice. Regardless, he refuses. “Gossip Group alert,” she whispers quickly, dashing out of his office. Steve frowns, looking out the window of his office that overlooks the indoor gym, Gavin, Ellisa, and Randy shoving each other as they bustle towards his office. He has half a mind to snap at Sharon for talking about _that_ _job_ when the building wasn’t actually clear, but it’s not like she would have known they were coming.

He leaves his office and greets the students with cautious welcome. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

Ellisa looks to Gavin, biting her lip as if waiting for him to say something. When he doesn’t, she rolls her eyes and huffs. “We hope you don’t mind us butting in, Mr. Rogers, but we noticed you’re with someone and we wanted to show you we still like you and we support gays.”

Steve stands gaping at the brash manner the girl talked with. “Uh.” He momentarily considers imparting that he is in fact bisexual, but then reconsiders, deeming if better off for the attention he gets from his female students that he doesn’t. Not that it would make much of a difference, but still. The idea makes him squeamish.

“We pitched in to buy you and your… boyfriend a dinner.”

Steve, less worried about them thinking Bucky’s his boyfriend and more concerned for their generous lending of money – that they should be saving for something more practical (like college) – frowns again. “I can’t accept this, guys. I appreciate the thought, but really, I – ”

“It’s for Panera,” Ellisa offers, as if it’s the height of the class that would sweeten the bargain enough for him to accept.

“I – ” Steve starts, but he honestly has no clue what to say. He’s speechless, torn between his initial shock and the warmth blossoming in his chest at the gesture. They don’t give him any more time to deliberate and refuse, what with Ellisa handing the free dinner for two coupon forward for him to take. He could easily tuck his hands in his sweatpants’ pockets and say, “No hands! Can’t accept it! Sorry!”

Randy rolls his eyes and gingerly grabs Steve’s hand, tucking the coupon into Steve’s palm. “Have a good night out for us,” he says, putting an end to the battle. Steve watches frozen to the spot as his students retreat.

He hears Sharon’s laugh and turns around, his face already flushing a deep red. Thankfully she goes to her own office, not bothering to confront him.

Before he loses his last chance, Steve calls out for Gavin, who faithfully comes jogging back towards him. “Yeah, Mr. Rogers?”

“Hey, Gavin,” Steve says softly, “I really, really appreciate this, and I’m so thankful I’ve got such awesome students, but you know I can’t accept this.” He pauses for a moment, a small smile creeping its way onto his lips. “Why don’t you go with Bucky instead of me? I’m sure he’d like a guy like you.”

Steve’s little tease has the intended effect, making Gavin stammer and blush. He steps back, hands up in surrender to deny taking the coupon back, and then opens his mouth to say something after a thoughtful pause, but before he can say anything, Gavin dashes away.

Steve grins. What a kid.

***

Steve holds off on bringing up the offer to Bucky for a few nights, overthinking the implications of asking Bucky out to dinner. He’s not _nervous_ or anything, because that would be ridiculous and totally inappropriate. They have dinner together way too often for it to be weird. It’s just a matter of explaining to Bucky what his little joke has manifested into, that his students are dead set on thinking they’re dating.

So yeah, it takes some time to vamp himself up for it – for perfectly acceptable reasons – and when that Saturday rolls around, Steve figures they have so many nights where they haven’t had dinner together that he might as well make use of the coupon. Besides, he’s craving some good, fresh bread.

Bucky looks incredibly sceptical when Steve tells him the story. “This isn’t fair, you know,” Bucky states before reaching across the table to stab at Steve’s tortellini Alfredo.

“What isn’t?” Steve frowns to himself. There’s nothing that isn’t fair in it, excluding the fact that he didn’t pay the kids back in some manner. Come to think of it, did they do it just for a boost in their grading? If that’s the case, Steve isn’t too proud of that; academic dishonesty is never acceptable. He vaguely dismisses the thought, knowing he’d get into a full blown debate with himself before confronting the poor students that only wanted to show support for Steve and his… _boyfriend_.

“First you do that shit at Coney Island, and now we’re out on a dinner date.”

Oh. Yeah, exactly what Steve was worried about Bucky misinterpreting this as. He clears his throat and shuffles in his seat.

“Okay, at Coney Island that was just to fuck with Clint, and you agreed to it, so I’m not at fault there.”

“I’ll give you that one, but this dinner date?” Bucky counters. Steve keeps trying to avoid Bucky’s narrowed eyes, but Bucky won’t let him.

“Hey, I couldn’t exactly turn it down, okay?” Steve says meekly, huffing in attempt to feign a light-heartedness that he wishes would come easily to this confrontation.

“Okay, yeah, you couldn’t turn down a few kids.”

“But they would’ve told!” Steve says desperately, knowing he’s grasping for straws.

Bucky gapes. “Steve you’re the teacher! Who would they fucking tell, you nerd?”

Steve ducks his head. He didn’t even mean to spew out that last line, in his defence, so the lack of credibility in it is _not_ his fault.

“This one student of mine, Gavin? He’s got a crush on you.” Judging by the pause, followed by a little puff of air, Steve knows Bucky can read straight through his diversion, but luckily Bucky doesn’t push him further.

Bucky looks off into a far corner of the restaurant, a bite of a dinner roll hanging wickedly between his lips. He takes the bread into his mouth and chews it slowly before swallowing it. Steve stares pointedly at his own food.

“Can I do something about that?” Bucky muses.

“Oh my God!” Steve yelps. “Bucky, he’s a _kid_! He’s my _student_ , I… No you cannot???”

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. “You’re the one that brought it up. What was the point, then?”

“Nothing,” Steve mumbles. “Ass.”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah, real mature.”

“Fine, if you want to nitpick everything I do, what about that text the other night, huh? ‘Nood night’? Don’t try and fucking tell me that was a typo.”

Bucky shrugs sheepishly. “So I fuck about with my texts. Nothing new there.”

Steve scowls for a solid two minutes before he gives in to Bucky’s taunting (“Ooh, Steve is mad at me, how _scary_ , I’m so heartbroken, my entire _being_ is aching with self-pity, please accept my forgiveness, O Great Steve”).

By that time, Bucky’s about ready for round two of Make Steve Flustered.

“What was Cassie going on about the other night? You _chose_ me as your prince?”

Steve full on groans, dropping his head into his hands so fast that Bucky’s almost worried he’ll go face first into his pasta. “She made me pick someone, and it was either you or Sam. And last time in D.C. when we looked after her, he was a princess, and she doesn’t forget those things so easily.”

“Lesbian princesses frowned upon or something?” Bucky asks, a slight disapproval in his tone that he can’t help.

“Oh no, there’s plenty of those. But Sam’s already betrothed to his friend Riley, and Cassie is not one to allow cheating.”

“Clint?”

“Are you kidding me? Besides, I would be too scared of Nat to even consider it.”

“Oh please, Tasha would love seeing Clint put through that type of humiliation.”

“Oh yeah? So if I’d picked Clint you would’ve had Natasha, which, from what I recall, didn’t go so well the first time you tried to make a pass at her.”

“Don’t remind me,” Bucky whines, putting a hand protectively over his right eye, and Steve assumes it to mean that that’s where he got his answer. “Stupid fucking Clint,” Bucky spits. “N’ his stupid fucking non-existent charm.”

“You’re one to talk about non-existent charm,” Steve says automatically, not believing a word of his own bullshit.

“Excuse me? I have _plenty_ of charm, and if anyone could attest to that I would expect it to be you. I’m deeply offended.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Steve shakes his head with a fond roll of his eyes, smiling down at his almost empty plate. He acknowledges the tingly sensation that spreads through him, for once doing nothing to stop it.

Bucky can’t stop staring at Steve. He looks absolutely beautiful with all his stupid pouts, blushing, and tiny smiles. He wants to scoop him up into his arms and nuzzle him until there’s nothing left but the wig of Steve’s hair that is too immaculate to even be real. Instead of stifling it all, which would prove all too difficult, Bucky takes the easier option of pasting on a full-blown grin. Everything feels so good.

“So,” Steve says, and he does that _thing_ where he looks at Bucky through his lashes, and all it does is remind Bucky of that night when Steve went to his knees without a second thought. “You ever going to tell me about Pete?”

Bucky’s grin grows wider, threatening to split his face in two. “You ever going to admit you’re jealous?”

“Shut up,” Steve whines, “I’m not jealous!” He constantly regrets having admitted that he liked (not likes) Bucky when things like this happen. At least last time it was over text. This time Bucky can see Steve’s flailing first-hand.

Bucky laughs, chucking a piece of bread at Steve, who surprisingly catches it in his mouth. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, with tricks like that you could give Clint a run for his money.” Steve shoots Bucky a glare, weakened impeccably by his loud, open-mouthed chewing. He knows it’s Bucky’s pet peeve. “You’re gross.” Steve shrugs as if suggesting Bucky’s supposed to deal with it.

“Pete and I were good friends in high school, and towards the end we kind of got together. Just naturally, as things go. Then college came around, things happened,” he hesitates a hair, and Steve notices the darkness that flashes in Bucky’s eyes, but it’s quickly dissolved. “We separated. On good terms. Just ran the course of our time together, I guess.”

Steve nods solemnly, his head swimming. He feels himself getting lost in his own thoughts, about Peggy and wondering whether or not they’d done their time, or if he’d cut it loose too early. He wonders if she was his forever. “It happens. You’ll find someone.”

Bucky hums, tacking on a helpless, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah. Someone.”

***

Steve is fucking intolerable. He waltzes into Bucky’s work a few times a week at lunch, bringing food with him or double-checking Bucky took his break to eat and that he’s not overworking himself, and it’s starting to grate at Bucky’s nerves. He appreciates it, sure, especially from Steve, but there are two issues with it: one, it makes it harder to deny how he feels about Steve what with his radiant smiles and all, and two, it makes Bucky feel like an incompetent child.

He considered approaching him directly to tell him, but then figured it’s about time for some payback, which is how he ends up outside The Peacock on his night off when he knows very well that Steve is on shift.

***

Steve’s in the back getting ready for tonight, thinking mournfully about the money he has to make up for the shift he gave up to babysit Cassie. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do it – he enjoyed watching Bucky with Cassie, and it’s been a while since he got to see her anyway – but it just means that Steve has to work twice as hard tonight, actually put a little more thought into it all.

He deflects the urge to cringe, as was typical for the first few months that he’d taken on the job but he’d now become immune to, as he paws through his wardrobe and chooses the skimpiest, skin-tight, all too revealing pair of black trunks that chafe in the most uncomfortably way. He tacks on a pair of suspenders that have metal rings, huffing a resigned laugh as the cold metal touches his skin, nipples going pert, as is the desired effect of the design.

“Look at you,” one of his co-workers drawls playfully. Steve laughs and grins ruefully.

“Gotta get a few extra, you know how it is.”

His co-worker gives him the once over, though it’s less predatory than assessing. “Be careful out there. Some shitty ones in the crowd tonight.”

Steve nods, thanking them for the heads up before strutting outside. _Time to slap on a sultry smile and go_ , he thinks. It’s not as bad as he makes it sound though; he desensitized himself a long time ago, detached to the act and his persona in its entirety. In fact, that’s one thing Steve likes about the job: a chance to be anyone else but who he really is for a few hours, even if it’s purely to be objectified. Hell, if he can get paid just for his body without anyone asking too many questions, why not?

He makes the most of his first ten minutes on stage, working the pole with all the experience he’s gained over his ‘career’ and earning as many wolf whistles as he does cash. A lot of the stage pool is split, especially when people throw it in a general direction and it lands on the floor of the stage. It’s kind of annoying for everyone, especially those who have to clean it up when the patrons are told not to do it in the first place, but they manage.

Mindlessly, Steve works his way around the floor, collecting plenty from quick lap dances and other various exhibitionist dance forms that have the ladies practically shoving cash down his shorts. When it gets uncomfortable, he heads backstage to take count and record it for the staff, stashing it in his locker before grabbing a towel to dry off the sweat.

Same as always, he supposes, the sweat mixed with the alcohol too familiar for the pungent smell to bother him. He’s bugged the chiefs about the music before, about the terrible speakers, but apparently they’re earning plenty of profit, so no one’s in a rush to change what isn’t broken (though Steve is seriously convinced they are).

On his second round of the floor, Steve almost falters, dropping the front of Johnny Storm when he catches sight of someone. That’s not Bucky, right? He wouldn’t come here. He _knows_ … Then again, Steve considers, he doesn’t know. Bucky doesn’t know the difference between Steve visiting him at a department store versus him frequenting this club.

Steve knows he has to keep his persona up though, especially since the last time he looked a little aggressive (aggressive meaning anything but seductive) and got warned about it, “for his own good,” would you believe?

So, he decides a little bitterly, might as well make it good for him. He denies the half of his brain that’s insisting that he’d rather deal with Bucky than let one of his co-workers work his roommate up.

He takes his time, making sure he can keep his head on steady for the time when he does come face to face with Bucky. It shouldn’t be so hard, not when he’s been doing it for so long, and not when he knows what it’s like to feel the weight of Bucky’s cock in his mouth.

Steve jerks his head and diverts his train of thought, focusing back on the thoughtless dance he’s treating a small bachelorette party to. He thinks about the time he saw Sharon and rolls his eyes inwardly. It seems bachelorette parties always hold some bad luck for him.

In the time he’s given himself, Steve is less averted to the idea and actually looking forward to it. He always enjoys the teasing he shares with Bucky, and as different as this is, maybe he can get Bucky back for all the shit he puts Steve through. What a way to get even.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Steve (Johnny Storm) purrs, trailing his fingers along the breadth of Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky gives him an impish grin, casually tucking a twenty into the hem of Steve’s stupid excuse for shorts. Steve raises an eyebrow at him, a silent question.

“Can’t pay a visit without actually contributing to your job now, can I?”

Steve bats off the blatant jab, not doing so much as batting an eye before rounding the seat and leaning over Bucky, hands on either side of him. “No, that wouldn’t go down too well. Wouldn’t offer you any services and you’d sit here all neglected. We don’t want that now, do we?”

Bucky swallows visibly, and Steve tips his head when he sees how Bucky’s eyes darken.

“My, you’re easy,” he teases, knowing it’ll hit Bucky’s ego right where he wants it. Bucky lets out a strangled noise, just shy of a groan. “What are you looking for today, honey?” Steve slaps on the cheesy nickname, determined to use more as the night proceeds, since Bucky will be too shy to even mention it back home.

“A good time,” Bucky answers easily, leaving it up to Steve for what he does. Steve smiles sickly sweet, mind igniting when he feels Bucky tuck a generous handful of bills into his side. Fair enough Bucky can pay him to do his job, but he wonders if maybe Bucky is overcompensating. Shoving the thought aside, he appropriates his professionalism and settles proudly across Bucky’s lap, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and smirking as he starts feeling the music, moving his hips slowly at first until he lets it override his senses. It’s shitty music, and even shittier sound, but in keeping his focus off his clients, Steve has learned enough to distract himself by focusing on something else, and the music usually works best.

“You thinking about what fruit and veg you’re gonna pick up in the store tomorrow?” Bucky asks playfully. Steve scowls and slips his hand up into Bucky’s hair, tugging just enough for Bucky’s head to drop back with a gasp. That shuts him up good.

“I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you come undone,” Steve counters, whispering low into the shell of Bucky’s ear. Bucky bites his lip to contain his groan, though it proves futile, the sound sending a shiver down Steve’s spine. They both know there’s an underlying truth to Steve’s comment, that the urgency in Bucky rutting his hips dirtily is more than for this moment alone. It’s dangerous, and Steve realizes it all too late. He clenches his jaw when Bucky has his eyes shut, doing what he does with any other customer and shutting out his personal apprehensions until it’s just another job.

A few more minutes, and Bucky’s run his time, same as any other customer would have. Steve has no obligation to offer any more. He leaves with a shrewd smile. He has other customers to attend to.

***

Bucky’s head feels like it’s up in the clouds. He’s not sure what just happened, but _shit_. Shit, Steve _knew_ what he was doing. He hangs around a while longer, not sure what he’s waiting for, but he does nonetheless. He should go home, shouldn’t even be here in the first place. It’s fine though, he thinks as he passes up someone who comes by and gives an inquisitive tilt of her head. Steve wouldn’t have done anything otherwise, right? He would’ve just walked right on if he wanted to.

(Also Bucky has a really uncomfortable situation going on in his pants that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He’s pretty sure Steve knew about that when he was in Bucky’s lap.)

The night drags on, and Bucky grabs a quick drink just to ease the nerves. He can’t help but follow the head of blond hair that stands out in the dimly lit atmosphere. Despite how trashy it feels, this club is one of the higher end ones in town and is typically packed on weekends. Uncomfortably so, Bucky is finding.

Finally, he decides he ought to leave. He’s not going to wait out Steve’s whole shift and give him a ride home – how awkward would _that_ be? Making his way to the exit, Bucky slows down his footing when he hears some aggressive grunts from a booth to his left. Knowing he should keep to himself, but too curious and instinctually protecting, Bucky glances over.

It’s Steve.

Not Steve making the noises, but it’s Steve struggling, looking uncomfortable but not protesting as an older man grins in a way that makes Bucky’s skin crawl. He keeps _touching_ Steve, and even though Bucky knows he can’t say anything about that, about Steve’s job, he can say something about how the wandering hands are making Steve’s eyes go dull, losing the flirtatious flare to them. He can say something about how the guy’s hands are way, _way_ too intrusive.

“Hey pal, you wanna watch yourself there?” Bucky growls, not realizing when he’d actually stalked over to the booth.

The guy looks up at Bucky, grin only widening. “Pretty boys want money and we get to do what we want, ain’t that right? Would expect you to know, being in a joint like this.”

Bucky’s hands ball into fists at his sides, his metal one making noise that can barely be heard under the veil of the music.

“Just go,” Steve insists, voice tight and not at all what it was before. Bucky doesn’t look at him, jaw clenching as he catches the older guy’s hand trying to make it into Steve’s pants.

“ _No_ ,” Bucky replies sharply. He’s about to make a move, to step forward and grab the guy by the collar – to give him a piece of his mind, or to beat the living shit out of him, Bucky will never find out, because right then is when two bouncers approach the booth and do the job for him, dragging the guy out of the establishment. Bucky’s hand is still itching to hit the guy.

He turns to Steve, who’s still in the booth with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly. He flinches when Steve glares at him, a real, heated glare.

“Leave.”

“But, St-” Bucky starts, barely catching himself on Steve’s name.

Steve’s eyes go cold and hard. “Go. Now. If you don’t leave I’ll have them escort you out, too.”

Bucky blinks, an intangible heat prickling at the back of his eyes. He swallows thickly, wanting to reach out to Steve, to say sorry even though he doesn’t know what for, but it’s a lost cause. Steve glares at him one more time before leaving the booth and getting lost amongst the crowd. He doesn’t look back once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: non-consensual touching, also the prelude to angst.
> 
> So... Sup? This chapter is all over the place. I read it for editing and was like "welp... rollercoaster. fun."   
> Let me know what you think? I'm pretty hesitant with this one. Love u guys :* 
> 
> ((Also creds to Paige for half the content tbh but I think the babysitting was def an event that was inspired by her suggestions.))
> 
> Up next: Talk Time! Fun! Angst! Fun!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end
> 
> Sorry for the delay! Hopefully when you read the chapter you'll understand why I had to give it a little extra thought before putting it up... Sorry in advance? Uni is back and I am looking at my doom while trying to decide if it's okay for me to skip my sister's wedding. Anyway. Message me on tumblr!!! bkcybvrnes for those of you who don't know! :) -G
> 
>  _savage._ -India

Everything sucks. Everything sucks because Bucky is anxious and he can't stop waiting for Steve to get home. When he finally does, all that happens is that Steve goes into his room and shuts his door so hard the silence that follows rings in Bucky's ears. He didn't even look at Bucky.

As has been all too familiar as of recent, sleep doesn't come easy to Bucky that night. He tosses and grunts, wanting to do something to fix whatever he did wrong. But… The guy had been _touching_ Steve in a way that Steve clearly didn't like, and that constitutes as assault. Bucky’s anger is boiling just thinking about it, but Steve’s made it clear there’s nothing to be said for it tonight.

How did Bucky do anything wrong in trying to make sure Steve was safe? He just… He can’t figure it out, and while he keeps trying to solve the puzzle, the morning rolls around. Bucky calls in sick to work, and since he does it so little no one asks anything. They know not to, anyway, not with his history.

Steve doesn’t say anything to Bucky all day and goes out at some point, coming back in the evening when Bucky’s got dinner made. Bucky’s sitting at the breakfast bar eating alone, and Steve plates some food before sitting a stool away. Bucky wants to say something, to force a laugh and have it brush over, but Steve’s tense. He can see it in the harsh line of his shoulders, the crease between his brows, and the tight set of his jaw. So they eat in silence.

That is, until Bucky can’t take it anymore and needs to ease the tension at least a hair.

“Sorry if it’s not that good. I don’t cook as well as you,” Bucky tries, aiming for something amicable and open. Unfortunately it does nothing but make Steve stop chewing. His eyes harden and he stands up, taking his plate of food into his bedroom.

Okay, so apparently they can’t even be civil now.

Bucky sits there trying to finish off his food, his appetite suddenly lost.

Later that night when Bucky is in the living room, hoping that Steve might come out so they can just get back on track – even though he’s beginning to seethe a bit himself – Steve finally emerges from his room. He’s got a black bag in hand, the one that he usually takes to his night shifts, and his back is stiff, turned to Bucky.

Bucky stares, a sick feeling rising in his throat. “You’re going?” he asks hesitantly.

Steve bristles. “Is that a _problem_?” He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge Bucky, and it hurts like a knife to the gut. Hurts like –

“That man assaulted you, Steve,” Bucky says meekly, his voice cracking a bit.

Steve’s hand tightens on the grip of his bag, and finally he at least turns his head to the side, still not looking directly at his friend. “You think that was the first time?”

 _No, no, no, no_. Bucky’s blood runs cold. No, that cannot possibly be…

“But that’s not _right_ ,” Bucky pleas, his voice tight with the attempt to ground himself.

It’s not right, he insists to himself, but all Steve does is laugh bitterly. “Gosh, you don’t know a thing about the work I do, do you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The air is suddenly sparse, and in the concern he’s harbouring for Steve, a spark of irritation arises in Bucky.

Steve sighs laboriously and drops his bag on the floor, turning around with a disdained expression. Bucky flinches. “I work at a goddamn strip club. It’s not exactly a place of high moral esteem, believe it or not.”

One thing Bucky can’t wrap his head around is that Steve seems to be okay with this, with what happened last night. That’s not _right_ , it’s not fair, and Steve doesn’t deserve that, but he seems to see no cause for alarm in it. If that’s how he sees it for himself, how does Steve feel about other people subjected to that treatment? “It doesn’t fucking mean someone can just _assault_ you,” he insists.

Steve rolls his eyes, like this is all some kind of joke to him, only fuelling Bucky’s irritation. He’s trying to fight for Steve, goddamnit, for him to see that he doesn’t deserve this, that no one does regardless of their occupation. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned about it? About yourself?”

“I know who I am and what I can handle,” Steve spits. “Why are you worried anyway, huh? It’s not like you’re my boyfriend.”

The words shouldn’t hit Bucky like a slap in the face, but they do. He knows this, reminds himself it every time Steve gives him that look that gets Bucky thinking otherwise. He stumbles for words, somewhere in the void between anger and hurt.

“And by the way,” Steve adds, “in case you couldn’t tell, this is a prime example of why.”

Bucky stares at the floor. Steve’s probably right, and he knows it, _boy_ does he know it. If they were together and this happened, this argument would surely rip them apart, which means, being friends, Bucky has no idea what to expect is coming next. His mouth opens and closes a few times, a sudden fear gripping him. “I can’t believe the… the staff would fucking _let_ that happen. Don’t they care about their employees?”

Diverting the subject to veil the truth of what is getting to him always works.

“You lose all luxury of the so-called security and morality the second you sign your name on that fucking contract, Bucky. Occupational hazard.”

“Doesn’t mean you get to be treated like a fucking object,” Bucky counters harshly. Using anger as a mask works, too.

“Excuse me?” Steve says incredulously. His voice is dangerously loud, and with each back and forth Bucky’s matching it despite how small he feels inside. Steve closes some of the space between them, and it’s all Bucky needs to start feeling panicky. “First off, that’s the job description. Some hypocrite you are throwing a line like that after you came there and used me in the exact same way everyone else does. What makes you any different from them, huh?”

Something snaps. It should be different, Bucky argues in his head. It should be, because it’s Bucky, and he –

“Because I…” Bucky shouts, a blip of a hesitation. “I care about you, dammit, Steve!”

Steve lets out a sardonic laugh. It hurts like hell, tearing Bucky apart inside out. He can’t help it anymore.

“You know what, Steve? Maybe we wouldn’t be here if you weren’t so… so _confused_ about things. You don’t know what you want and you just ruin things for yourself before they can even exist. You don’t even know – ”

Steve steps into Bucky’s space quickly, and even though Bucky knows he won’t refrain from using the strength in his left arm if he has to, he’s scared. Steve won’t hurt him though, he knows that. It’s just the circumstance and his instinct.

“You don’t get to talk that kinda shit to me, Bucky.” Bucky almost liked it better when Steve’s voice was loud and tangible in the weight of the silence. “You need to get off my back. I try to keep level-headed, I try to keep easy-going with you and I never get into your business; I don’t push you to tell me things about your life that you don’t want to share. Why can’t you just do the same for me?

“Here you are with your façade that things are okay, covering everything up with jokes and all your crap, pretending it’s okay to brush off these things that you know are _not_ okay. I’m not the only one that dismisses things, Bucky, and you know it. It’s not that you can’t get over your things; I know it still bugs you. I see it every day. You know what it does to not trust the people around you, to put things on a back shelf like none of it matters? It pushes people away.”

Bucky doesn’t notice Steve retreat. He can’t tell Steve’s leaving, too absorbed in the cold truth. He knows what Steve was talking about; he’s not stupid. He’s thought about it himself, plenty. Wanted to tell Steve so badly so many times but couldn’t find the courage because he’s fucking _weak_ and even Steve sees it in him. Steve can see through him to the fake, worthless hollow that he is.

“Well what about yours?” Bucky snaps back, voice rough and foreign to his own ears. Steve stops in his tracks, turning halfway to hear what Bucky has to respond with. “You have a façade too. You don’t let yourself open up again, do you? And you keep trapping yourself in these… these crappy jobs and you’re just spending the whole time hiding from the real world and covering it up like you can justify living like that. What, are you punishing yourself or something? You’re in _no_ place to get mad at me for not sharing personal snippets about my life when you’ve got plenty of your own stacked up, _pal_. And I’ve not tried digging. I just stepped in and tried to help a friend, because that’s what we are, _right_?” Bucky spits out the last sentence venomously, like the idea itself is so ridiculous and spiteful.

“Every time you get something you run away into your fucking dead end jobs looking for some false sense of security and then try to pin fault on someone else.” It’s like he can’t stop his mouth from running, his words so stained with anger and frustration, and how unfair this all is. “You know what, Steve? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t hold your girl Peggy down.”

Steve turns the rest of the way to face Bucky, staring at him coldly. He clenches his jaw and moves to step forward, but then thinks better of it. Instead of fighting back, of taking the bait to go deeper that he’s willing, Steve says quietly, “Teaching isn’t a dead end job.”

Bucky, echoing what Steve did earlier that made Bucky’s stomach turn, laughs harshly. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re a gym teacher, Steve. Any other subject, I’d believe you, but you’re a gym teacher, and at a high school at that. No one is voluntarily a gym teacher unless they’re scraping at the bottom of the barrel for a job.”

Steve swallows. The air, if there’s even any left, feels like it’s choking him. Both of them are one more word away from a physical conflict.

Bucky’s chest heaves with the angry breaths he’s taking, his mind settling out of the fuzziness as the silence grows, and what he’s just yelled at Steve registers in his mind. Oh no.

Steve clears his throat, and Bucky looks away, suddenly ashamed, but still hot with anger and hurt. He can’t hear anything but the ringing in his ears except for the repetition of what Steve said to him, what he said to Steve. He loses himself in it, in the conflicting pull of who’s right and who’s wrong.

In the midst of it all, he registers that Steve has left, his black bag still sitting by the door. He feels a sick sense of triumph that’s soon evaded.

Steve’s gone.

He can’t remember how to breathe.

***

It takes Bucky a while to calm down, mainly because he spends his time dwelling on the fear that Steve might leave. It’s not the most likely thing, but it’s not impossible.

There was definitely one thing Steve was right about: he pushes people away. It was said in the heat of the moment, and people say that when someone spits out those kinds of things, they either don’t mean any of it, or that the real truth comes out then. Bucky doesn’t want to think about differentiating every part of their yelling match into truths and false accusations, trying to figure out which extreme is reality.

Steve probably doesn’t even know how deep that cut. With all the withheld parts of Bucky’s life, Steve couldn’t possibly know the amount of times Bucky has closed off, pushed people away, and watched them leave. To think that Steve might leave, too? It doesn’t help Bucky keep his calm one bit.

 _People just keep leaving_.

It’s a trend in Bucky’s life. He should have seen this coming; it was all too good to be true. With how easily they slipped past any uneasiness between them, Bucky should’ve known it was only a matter of time before the dream burst into a nightmare. _No, not a nightmare. You’ve had those. Those are bad, worse even, but they are not real. This is real._

He doesn’t want Steve to leave, but Bucky knows he overstepped. In debating with himself, Bucky realizes that he only said what he did because he’s overprotective, and he cares too much (– ignoring the bit at the end that Bucky definitely didn’t mean. He tries not to think about that part, where he uselessly lashed out at Steve just to make himself feel better, at least having something to fight back with).

It took all this for him to realize how much he cares about Steve.

_“Because I… I care about you, dammit, Steve!”_

_Bucky’s throat closes up. He’s being pulled under. His blood runs cold when he plays over his hesitation, realizing what he was about to say. Then Steve laughs cruelly, and Bucky feels like he’s being crushed. It’s not true. It can’t be. It’s not allowed to be true, and it wouldn’t change a thing if it were._

The arm of the sofa creaks under the grip of his metal hand, pulling him out of his daze. His vision is blurry.

 _Because I love you_.

This is ridiculous. He doesn’t love Steve, not like that. As friends, yeah, they’ve become so close, but… Even people who are together dance around the phrase, treat it as a taboo if it’s said too early. Bucky and Steve haven’t even had a chance for anything, yet there Bucky was just barely keeping from yelling the words out loud right to Steve’s face. He didn’t say it, but he still let it get the better of him, and then let his anger overwhelm his emotions to the point where he said things that he can’t take back.

None of this changes that Bucky doesn’t want Steve to leave. Steve can take care of himself, Bucky knows it, but Steve didn’t even _try_ that night at the club. What else could Bucky have done? He wasn’t just going to walk away from it, but apparently that was exactly what Steve had wanted him to do.

He can’t _understand_ it, but at the same time he can’t say Steve’s wrong when he doesn’t know what it’s like to be in Steve’s position.

Bucky wishes none of this ever happened.

***

When Steve comes back home late that night, the apartment is silent. There are signs of Bucky, same as always, but no sound. Part of him wants to check to see if Bucky is even home, maybe open his bedroom door a crack just to ease the tick of anxiety. But what would he do if it turns out Bucky is there and he’s awake? What does Steve do if Bucky sees him and…

Steve swallows thickly. He can’t take that right now. He picks up the black sports bag he dropped by the door earlier and goes to his room.

He spent his hours out roaming around town on foot, stopping at a retro diner when his stomach growled in protest of the hour. He got a milkshake and some fries to shut it up, letting the barely existent guilt of eating unhealthy food blind his thoughts. He sat there for ages, remorse and resentment battling each other, though only sounding like white noise. He ordered a cup of coffee and stared at it until it was cold. Then he went back.

Even being curled up on himself in bed isn’t helping right now. He wishes it was like one of those nightmares from his childhood where the blanket sealed itself around him until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even scream for help; the type that had him waking with a sweat, his mother quick to be at his side and smooth her hand down his back as he wept into her shoulder.

It would be so much easier to accept that than to try and make sense of the several trains of thought, all running on a crash course collision towards each other until they finally destroy him inside out.

Steve has every right to be angry. He was, and he still is. He’s angry because he could have lost his job. _Not that Bucky would have minded_ , he thinks bitterly. He can’t afford to lose it, not yet. Not until he finally pulls his head out of his ass and can get a decent job that he actually wants to do for the rest of his life. Oh, and that. He’s angry because Bucky reminded him of his dead end jobs; angry because he was right.

Almost twenty-eight, the reminder rings in his head. Sure, people don’t have their lives cut out for them the second they step out of education with a diploma or a degree, but it doesn’t take them this long to settle into some practical start-up job. Steve’s too pig-headed and stubborn for his own good, and each time he remembers it he tells himself he’s going to find that shit job and follow through, even if it means going down a route that pushes him further and further away from his passion. This teaching job is not that job. If he were an English teacher, maybe it’d strap him down and keep him from his real unreachable ambition, but he’s not.

So with his job as mere convenience with no sense of responsibility to remain at the school, Steve isn’t stifling himself. But he’s not making ends meet either, and the only way to do that…

He can’t lose the job at the club. He can’t be kicked off just because Bucky couldn’t let it go. If that were to have happened, Steve doesn’t know how he’d deal with Bucky, taking into account how sour he’d be. He wouldn’t have anywhere to go again. It was bad enough the first time, for the sake of the fucking goldfish. The only way he made it through that was because of Bucky.

 _Fuck_.

It’s eating him alive. Everything since the start of the year has included Bucky, and Steve’s not so sure he knows how to go without. It scares him. He’s not supposed to get stuck to someone.

On one hand, there’s Steve driven by his independence to maintain some form of an income. On the other, there’s Bucky and what he was trying to do, the thoughtless protection, and then Bucky’s harsher words, the truth about Steve’s life. He had no right to bring Peggy into it, Steve knows that, and he almost snapped when he said it, but… He can’t help but thinking Bucky hit the bull’s eye on that one.

He falls asleep hours later, his head pounding with a headache that was the unwelcome side effect of his hot, angry tears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: arguments, angst, harsh words.... The content of the arguments contain jabs about jobs and direction and pertains to the previous situation of Steve's work thing and the non-consensual touching event that went on. 
> 
> Yeah... sorry ha  
> Hope you guys are having a good new year.... :) 
> 
> Up next: our boys try to deal with the aftermath, quite terribly.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end
> 
> I'm so tired right now so forgive me for any bad editing on my part... Ooh hey yeah cool thing: I signed up for stucky big bang! I'm going to TRY to do it, but... I'll see if I can get this done and balance school enough to do it. I have an idea already, so I'm hoping I can get it done :-) -G

“What’s he doing here? Is everything alright?” Bucky hears Natasha ask when she comes in. He’s got his legs drawn into his chest, chin resting on his knees as he stares a hole in the wall. Yeah, everything’s alright.

“I don’t know. I tried talking to him,” Clint replies in a hushed tone, but loud enough that Bucky can roll his eyes at his sad attempt to whisper. “He didn’t say anything, just came over a couple hours ago and was acting… weird. He talked normally for a bit, but then,” he trails off. Bucky can see Clint through the back of his head, waving a hand to gesture at what the ‘then’ entailed. There’s a little more bickering that seems further away, probably because Natasha is privy to Clint’s oblivious lack of subtlety.

The only bit Bucky hears is Clint’s disgruntled sigh when Natasha says, “Just let me try.”

“He won’t say more to you than he has to me,” he mumbles, and Natasha just scoffs and shoos him out of his own living quarters.

Bucky distantly wonders how they’re still together when Clint can underestimate her like that. Besides – and it’s not like Bucky would expect either of them to know since they swore to secrecy and confidentiality separately – he’s done it before where he lets Natasha know some parts of the story, and Clint others. Tony knows his own share of stuff too. Sometimes the details he’s shared with them overlap, and sometimes it’s just the one person that knows.

He coughs into the crook of his arm and shuffles deeper into the unrelenting embrace of the plush couch. It’s kind of comforting in that please-don’t-swallow-me-whole-inanimate-furniture kind of way. Though Bucky wouldn’t quite mind being swallowed whole by anything right now.

“Hey,” Natasha says, sitting beside him on the couch Indian style, still being sure to give him his space in case he needs it. These guys are too good to him.

“Hi,” he replies, fixating on figuring out if the black mark on the wall is a bug, or if it’s some tragic permanent reminder of Clint’s inability to move into a new place without some reminder of his recklessness.

“What’s up?”

“Nothin’. Just missed you dorks, so I wanted to stay here for a few days. Don’t see much of you anymore.”

Natasha lifts the corner of her mouth in a smile, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking at what has Bucky’s attention held so well. Unfortunately for Bucky, she’s never been one to beat around the bush. She sighs and turns to him again, hands folded in her lap. “Alright. What gives? I would’ve bought that sappy excuse if not for the whole kicked puppy thing you got going on.”

“Not a kicked puppy,” Bucky asserts.

“Fine, no, you’re not. But you’re not responding to anything.”

“I’m replying to you right now.”

Natasha doesn’t take to his retaliations. She knows that Bucky knows what he’s doing. It’s not new of him to shut down when it’s all too much, to stop pretending like things are okay and finally showing some abnormality.

Bucky sniffles to stop his nose from running. Traitorous thing; he’s not even near tears. It’s just one of those days for his nose.

He thinks about the idea of telling Nat, then drifts off into a list of all the reasons he shouldn’t. He just needs time away from the apartment, time to give Steve space so that he doesn’t leave. Bucky overstepped. It didn’t make sense, but it was clear in Steve’s anger that hasn’t come forth before.

He overstepped in saying that Steve doesn’t know what he wants. Bucky doesn’t know what Steve wants; how could he judge something like that? Bucky only ever knows what he wants for _himself_ , and evidently the two don’t correspond.

Steve was right: he’s dealt with Bucky’s shit time and time again without asking a single question, even if Steve has dealt out his own. If Steve said it was okay – even though it _wasn’t_ , it isn’t right that someone can just _touch_ Steve like that – then Bucky has to respect that.

He doesn’t want to.

Bucky wants to know the ins and outs of Steve in every way he can, but he knows it’s impossible. He’ll never get that, and he really needs to fucking move forward. Maybe this time away is exactly what he needs to disconnect from that attachment, from the stupid potential, or whatever it was that made Bucky almost spew out a lie.

“Is this about Steve?” Natasha asks after some time. Of course she does.

“No.”

She pauses. “I’ve talked to him before and I’m ready to do it again, Bucky. I know you… You let this happen but I’m not going to sit back and watch while he-”

“You’ve talked to him before?” Bucky asks, voice pinched. Oh God, when was that? “And just… It wasn’t his fault, okay? I said something out of line and it’s my fault.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s true, okay?” Bucky insists. “Don’t… Don’t say anything to him. We just need space. I said something about his job that I shouldn’t have and he got mad at me for it. He yelled a bit, but that was it.”

Natasha stays silent for a while. She knows about Steve’s other job, and she knows that it’s a delicate topic for someone to make an offhanded comment about. “What did you say?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches and he sinks further into the couch. “M’not telling. But point is: I fucked up and I…” _I don’t want to lose him_.

Natasha’s mouth twists with discontent. They sit for some time, and Bucky has a hard time not running back over the whole thing. Eventually Nat moves, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulder and pulling him down to lie on the couch, his head in her lap. She runs his hands through his hair and massages his scalp without saying anything, and that’s what reminds Bucky. That’s what reminds him what he’s got even when he feels like he’s lost it all. He’s got these guys through it all; they’ve made it all too clear. They’re always going to be here, always going to make sure he’s alright, always going to be there and hold him when he needs it, when no one else will.

Bucky can’t remember the last time he cried for the sake of gratitude like he does now, and Natasha takes it as well as she always has, curling an arm around him to draw him close, hugging him as she whispers reassurances in their mother tongue. He feels bad for dragging them through this, but he’ll deal with that guilt later. Right now, he just needs this.

Clint comes back about half an hour later to find them a tangled mess, Bucky still sniffling and oozing gratefulness that he also sheds on Clint, but not quite as sappily since he’s managed to clear his emotional constipation some. Clint has an arm around his shoulders, and if Bucky were to look closely he would see the anger in his features. Natasha deals with dinner while Clint hangs around, later deciding to distract everyone with some furious rounds of Mario Kart.

It will be okay.

***

Steve walks around like a zombie at work that day. On top of his colleagues, even his students ask if he’s feeling alright. Steve can’t exactly tell them no, he’s not, so he ends up tossing around half-hearted apologetic smiles and brushing it off.

He knows he said some shitty stuff. It’s not like he doesn’t know; he knows. He knows he shouldn’t have said that last bit especially, the bit about Bucky not telling him about his past, about his arm. It isn’t his place, and even the second the words left his mouth, he felt the bitter taste of regret, but he was too angry to say anything more.

It’s hard; not knowing who’s wrong, who’s right. It’s hard trying to figure out if he had the right to respond the way he did, or if he was just lashing out brutally for no reason and not realizing how shitty a person he was.

He’s spent the whole time since then running over it again and again, trying to figure it out.

Of course Steve wants to believe he was right, he’s got his own pathetic pride. He’s reasoned to himself too many times why he had every right to be mad, and his justifications don’t lose their credibility. But at the same time, Bucky… Bucky wasn’t wrong. He shouldn’t have stepped in, shouldn’t have said a word when Steve said to leave, but he did, and Steve thinks that’s where he snapped. And the stuff he said about Steve’s teaching was just the solid truth, the cause of his frequent anxiety.

It doesn’t help that Bucky hasn’t come home since, or at least from what he’s seen.

Banner drops by with a coffee, tipping his head in acknowledgment of Steve’s worn down gratitude. Sharon doesn’t even tease him when she sees him with his head between the pages of his notebook, looking at the words until his forehead falls against the paper with the exhaustion and frustration that comes from not being able to formulate a single coherent thought. She goes so far as to give him a quick hug and tell him she’ll call in a sub to cover the last class of the day.

Rule number one of working at any remotely respectable establishment: don’t let your personal life interfere with your professionalism. Steve is fucking that up incredibly, but no one seems to mind, not even Principal Fury who comes in, gives him one look, and opts not to bother him. Maybe moping will lose him this job, Steve thinks, and half the yelling would have been for nothing.

***

Bucky’s been staying in the extra room that Natasha used to use before her and Clint got together, and a couple nights after he’s taken haven here, he’s staying awake and listening out of bad habit as Clint and her hiss at each other.

“I can’t just watch him like this! How am I supposed to do nothing when I know something’s going on?” Clint asks in his shit stage whisper. Bucky frowns. Clint shouldn’t have to worry for him.

“We’ll deal with it, but Bucky’s told me clearly, he – ”

“Bucky’s blind! You know I love him, but he… He’s too good for some people, and if I have to fucking intervene, I will.”

“Clint, you can’t just decide what happens for him. We’ve done this before, and it doesn’t work every time. We can only do so much.”

“But that’s exactly it! We can’t do much, but the least I could do for him is to talk t-”

“No. We’re going to wait this out and stand by him. He’ll be okay. We just need to give him time; this is something he needs to do on his own.”

Clint gives up arguing with her, and in the silence Bucky feels a guilt weigh down on him. He doesn’t want to put this on them, especially if it makes them argue.

The room is dark, with no light seeping in from any city lights, since Clint lives a little further out and this window faces another building wall. Even then, Bucky can make out the silhouettes of the sparse furniture, his eyes well adjusted from having been awake so long. He’s got the covers half on, the warmth of the oncoming change of season being too much to be comfortable. He’s not sure how long he stays up for, tracing the lines around the room and seeing if he can pick out everything, squinting when his eyes start watering from the strain of trying to discern two almost indistinguishable shades of grey where the dresser meets the wall.

Whatever the case, it’s enough time for him to think and decide he needs to do something, just to get out. He’s run out of the small pile of clean clothes he had here, and Clint doesn’t do the laundry for another three days by his stupid schedule that he won’t change. Bucky could quite easily turn his underwear inside out and deal with shirts that have borderline pungent pits, but that’s kind of gross. Even in his depths, Bucky knows clean clothes are a must for his comfort. He doesn’t want to chance busting into Clint’s room for fear of what he might find in there, and he doesn’t want to ask more of the friend who’s given him so much already, so he’ll manage himself.

Bucky hauls himself out of the bed, pressing his palms to his eyes as his head rushes with the movement. Even if he doesn’t end up getting any clothes, he just needs to get out. He dresses back up and slips on his black leather jacket, the one with a white star patched on the left arm, and slips out into the quiet of the night.

***

Steve shakes off the rain from the umbrella in the lobby and makes his way upstairs. He couldn’t stay in the apartment tonight, not with everything plus the anxiety of not knowing where Bucky was weighing on him. He’s worried, of course he is, because Bucky hasn’t so much as sent a text to let Steve know where he’s been the past few nights. Steve suspects he’s staying at a friend’s, but he doesn’t know for sure. He could text Natasha, but that would end badly with her either yelling at him for having lost Bucky, or for having inevitably found out what happened and wanting to hack his head off.

So he walked around a few blocks hopelessly checking the perimeter. He popped in and out of almost every place he could with no idea what he was doing. What if he did find Bucky? What would he say? He’s still not quite settled, and he doubts Bucky would forgive him at the snap of his fingers. So in part, he’s relieved he didn’t find him. But that relief makes him feel doubly guilty for not knowing.

 _I could text him_.

Steve huffs, bounding up the stairs. Yeah, and get no reply, only increasing the anxiety. Good idea.

He reaches their floor and scowls at the ground, then looks ahead of him down into the hallway and freezes.

 _Bucky_.

He’s standing there, jostling the key into the fidgety lock and wearing the familiar expression of resigned irritation, and then he finally gets it open and goes inside.

Steve’s stuck at the far end of the hallway, mind suddenly lit by a thousand possibilities of what he could do right now.

  1. _Go in there_.



No, he can’t just waltz in and make it look like he was waiting for this to happen. He can’t ambush Bucky if he thinks Steve is out or asleep; that’s just not fair. Also, coming back to the original query: what could Steve possibly say? He’s relieved to see Bucky’s okay, but the wheels in the Irrational Anger Station in his brain are whirring back to life. If he does go in, he needs to make sure he’s calm. Steve doesn’t think he could take the responsibility of making Bucky hurt even more.

  1. _Go back out. Wait it out and see if he’s still there tomorrow_.



Where will Steve stay if he does that? He’s not going to take haven with Clint and possibly-murderous-Natasha, and his work colleagues aren’t exactly on that level of friendship, at least in his mind. He thinks about taking another night out on the road, skipping from bar to bar without really drinking anything, just staying away.

Before he can make that decision, Steve finds himself outside their apartment door. He shuffles about, ready to run in either direction if he suddenly decides against what he’s about to do.

Bucky’s in the kitchen when Steve opens the door, searching around to grab a handful of Cliff protein bars that Clint probably doesn’t buy, no doubt. Steve smiles absent-mindedly when he sees the familiar packaging grasped in Bucky’s hand.

“Hey,” Steve says. Bucky’s head shoots up, eyes wide. He doesn’t reply, but Steve’s not sure he expects him to. Time to wing it. “Where have you been?”

Bucky scoffs, opening the fridge to get some orange juice. He slams the door shut a bit harder than intended, frowning at the noise it makes. “What’s it to you?”

“I – Whatever’s happened, I’m still your friend,” Steve says, trying to get Bucky to at least look at him. It just makes Bucky turn away. “I still care.”

“Must be nice to live life as a hypocrite,” Bucky mumbles, and Steve feels a flare of defence, but he casts it out. Calm, remember? He opens his mouth to reply, maybe something nice, he doesn’t even know, because Bucky cuts in before he can speak. “I was at Clint’s, okay?”

Steve lets out a small breath that he didn’t notice he was holding.

“What, do you approve of that, Steve?” Bucky asks sharply. Steve can tell, can feel the weight of the space around them, that if he makes the wrong move they’ll be at it again. Bucky shakes his head and exits the kitchen, his orange juice left forgotten on the counter as he makes sure not to touch Steve when he goes to his room.

Steve puts the juice back in the fridge and forces himself to breathe smoothly, venting out any frustration and worry so that he can do this right. What ‘this’ is, he isn’t sure, but he means to keep things civil, or at least not let them get worse. He knows he’s preparing for it though, in the tightness between his shoulders and the feeling that a single word will ignite an explosion.

A few minutes later, Bucky comes out with his bag slung over his shoulder. Steve pushes himself off the counter. “Where…” Steve starts to ask, thinking better of it. He doesn’t mean to sound like he’s policing Bucky’s actions.

“You need space, I’m giving it to you,” Bucky says. He still won’t look at Steve.

“I never said I nee-” Steve stops abruptly. He can feel his pride pricking under his skin, but he can also see the exhaustion hidden under Bucky’s coldness. “Fine, maybe we both do, but you don’t have to leave the apartment.”

Bucky laughs shortly. “Okay, yeah, sure.” He moves to the door, putting his shoes back on. Steve is itching to say something. He can’t just let him go like this, not without something to show Bucky he’s trying.

“When will you come back?” he asks. He wonders if he sounded as broken to Bucky’s ears as he just did to his own, feeling pathetic at the thought. Bucky pauses, but he remains silent. Steve tries again. “I’ve been cooking for two out of habit,” he says, forcing out a strained laugh. “There’s too many leftovers, even for me, if you can believe that.”

Nothing.

“I… Buck, if anyone should be out of here to give the other space, it should be me. This is your home. At least let me…” His words are getting weaker, more desperate and transparent.

Bucky turns his head ever so slightly, and Steve pays close attention for anything. He’s silent for a while.

“You’ve earned you keep here, don’t worry about that,” Bucky says, then opens the door and leaves.

Through all the things he’s feeling, Steve can’t help but think about how Bucky didn’t answer his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: more sad angsty stuff..... it just doesn't end I'm so sorry okay I'm so sorry!!!! It's too late to change it!!!!!
> 
> Up next: Steve talks to Sam, and Buck confides in his son, Judd.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up there's a date with not-Steve in here so like for anyone that might want to skip that yea. Uhhh... other than that this week's author's note consists of me thanking you guys for being so awesome and kind with your responses and making me feel less lonely when I have a quiet sucky Friday. But oh hey! One of the mods on thestuckylibrary rec'd the fic!!!! It made me really happy

Steve groans, kicking the leg of the table when Skype cuts out again.

“Stupid fucking thing. It never works when you have something _important_ to talk about, does it? Only when you’re sitting not talking for a fuckin’ hour just fuckin’ around. Ohh, no when you actually want to _talk_ , it just – ”

“Steve?” Sam says clearly, his camera feed looking pretty decent. Steve would be more optimistic if he didn’t suspect it’ll drop the second he opens his mouth. “I caught something about ‘important,’” he says, and Steve rolls his eyes. It figures that’s the one word to go through when he was moments away from cowering out of talking about it. “What’s up?”

Steve shuffles on the couch, leaning forward towards the laptop, then gives up and falls back into the cushions. “I don’t know what to do with myself, Sam.”

“Uhuh,” Sam hums, “and you only just figured this out?”

Steve shoots a glare at the camera. “No, but I’ve finally come to terms with it,” he says, not mentioning what it is that brought the anxiety inducing topic to the forefront of his thoughts.

Sam nods, the camera freezing for a second while he rearranges his features to show his attentiveness. “Alright, Rogers, lay it on me.”

What with Steve not having expected the conversation to get this far, it takes a moment for him to tune down the noise into a coherent stream of thoughts. “I want to write.”

He pauses, waiting for Sam’s sarcastic, “Duh,” to come in, but it doesn’t.

“I want to write, and I’m not doing anything about it. I write in my spare time, sure. I’ve filled up journals, but I just… I don’t have any direction, Sam.” He looks at his feet before adding, “I don’t know what I want. I’m just confused, and I can’t keep up with these dead end jobs – ”

“Alright, who said this bullshit to you, huh?” Sam asks, expression stern. Steve snaps out of his daze, realizing his echo of Bucky’s accusations.

“No one. No one.” It’s a blatant lie, and his repetition doesn’t do anything to make it sound remotely true. Sam watches him closely, and when Steve doesn’t crack, he sighs and backs down.

“Fine, I’ll let it go this time. But we gotta talk this out, Steve. I know you don’t want to do freelance stuff, or anything related to journalism so that you get caught up and tied down in that, but there’s no other way you’re going to do this Steve. I might have believed it a year or so ago when I saw you writing myself and believed you would put something out there, but you’ve not done it. You don’t need to start straight away, but you have to start somewhere. You need to decide what you want now, and I think you know, but you need to figure out how to approach that. You have to keep in practice, Steve.”

“I do,” Steve replies quietly. He does.

“I know you do,” Sam says gently. “But you have to start submitting stuff, Steve. When you start having your work published, or you get feedback, whatever you do… You need to gain confidence in yourself and your writing, and the only way you can do that is to share your stuff, Steve. It’s one thing to have me tell you it’s good, but I’m always going to be biased. When you see that a bigger audience wants your stuff, you won’t be held back by your hesitations.

“Make me a deal. I want you to write and email me some writing once a week. If you have too many sports meets in a week, I’ll let you skip, but I’m going to stay strict with this. I’ll read it, reply, and I’m going to make you share this stuff, Steve. Maybe not all of it, but you need to.”

Steve feels like a little kid getting scolded, but he knows Sam is right. It’s the kind of thing he tells himself all the time but avoids. “What can I do?”

“I have some friends around here, we can get you hooked up to a paper or some publishers.”

“But – ”

“We’ll figure out things that don’t have too much attachment. Are you with me?”

Steve ducks his head. He didn’t get a moment to think in all of Sam’s carefully thought out advice, something Sam has no doubt thought about in as much detail as Steve. “Yeah. I’m with you.”

“Steve,” Sam says softly, “Look at me.”

Steve does as he’s told, feeling the weight of his words when he repeats himself. He’s going to do it. Seriously, this time, and not just trying to scrape by while doing a side hobby that’s fruitless, a wasted dream.

“What about that story you were working on last winter?”

Steve scrunches his nose. “That was shit. I’d have to rewrite it; everything was a mess in that.”

“It’s a start,” Sam suggests hopefully. Steve smiles tiredly, then nods.

He feels stupid for having to get this push. He knows – has known all along – what he should do, what he _can_ do, but no one’s been telling Steve what to do, and maybe he misses that drive to commit, the pressure of expectation. He has it in himself; it just needs to be drawn out.

“Okay,” Steve says decidedly. Sam grins, and after some double-checking, Sam moves on to telling him about how Riley’s doing, and how the kids at the day-care like to remind him how much they miss Steve.

Once they’ve hung up, Steve settles in his bedroom and scours his laptop for his old documents buried in layers of folders, digging up a file eloquently titled, “Never Read.”

So Steve, ever the rebel even against his own word, opens the document and reads halfway, cringing at awkward sentences, his mind buzzing with the renewed potential as he thinks of ways to rephrase, restructure, and rebuild.

That’s when the door opens. Steve’s heart jumps into his throat, and he stops reading, stops thinking.

 _Bucky’s back_. Two days since he dropped by, and he’s back.

After a couple minutes of shuffling noises, Steve gets up and pops his head out of his bedroom door, peering into the living area.

“Hi,” Steve says tentatively. Bucky looks worn down, but he looks good. He looks rested and warm despite the dullness to his expression.

“Hi,” Bucky grumbles back. He grabs some food from the fridge and puts it into the microwave, then shuts himself in his bedroom when his food is done.

Right. They’re still like that.

***

Later that night, Steve leaves his room for his shift. He notices Bucky at the breakfast bar, catching the sudden downturn of his lips. Steve grips the strap of his bag tighter and puts his shoes on, not bothering to expend a word before shutting the door behind him. Just because he’s aiming for civil, doesn’t mean Steve has to give up his job for Bucky.

It makes his blood simmer, and the irritation that breaks through to him lasts throughout his shift. It’s not the worst, though, because sometimes being in a pissy mood translates well into being a little more aggressive, more demanding and dominant. Steve makes more than he did the last two nights he worked in the one go.

***

“Do you know what that girl did?” Bucky asks, flailing his arms about to emphasize his point. “It’s bad enough that Natasha refused to set me up with a half decent blind date, but when I ask _you_ to do it, I end up sitting across from a girl who won’t stop crying about her ex. Only to have them make up over the phone right in front of me. Do you know how shitty that made me feel? India, you fucking suck. I was hoping to actually get somewhere this time, but. Ah, fuck, I’m hopeless.”

India rolls her eyes and sips her tea, leaning forward on the table and regarding Bucky with a calculating look. After some deep contemplation, she opens her mouth and says, “Maybe you just suck at dating.”

Bucky’s jaw drops, looking incredibly offended. “I do not!” He pouts some, shaking his hair in front of his eyes and slumping into the chair of the café. They don’t have much lunchtime left to discuss how she betrayed him by setting him up like that, and how Natasha betrayed him by refusing to set him up at all. She wouldn’t give her reasoning, but the wary look on her face said it all.

“You’re so mean to me,” Bucky whimpers, giving India his best ironic puppy eyes. “Why are you mean to me?”

“You make it too easy,” India replies, pasting on an innocent smile.

Bucky scowls, dropping his chin onto his folded arms. “None of those shitty dates were my fault. And how much do you want to bet you’re any better, huh?”

India raises an eyebrow. “I could bet a lot and win, but it would have to be fair. You versus me.”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “So we go on a date with the same person and compare?”

There’s a beat of a pause, in which India takes another sip of her drink and fiddles with the bells on her bracelets. “I was thinking more along the lines of… each other.”

Bucky sits up straight, eyes widening. “Oh.”

***

That’s how they end up at a hole in the wall Chinese joint the next night. As dingy as the place is, it was a mutual decision, so Bucky’s not too fussed about its lack of fancy décor and mood lighting.

It’s kind of terribly awkward, because Bucky has no idea what to talk abut. He’s out of his element here; the two of them have always interacted in the workspace and acted pretty playful, but this is totally different. Plus, he can’t think of a thing to talk about that they haven’t already discussed. It’s pathetic, because with the right mood, Bucky can’t shut up.

When he picked India up, he told her she looks great, because even though he’s seen her dressed pretty formal for work, she’s dressed up differently. It’s more casual, with black jeans and a flowy black shirt – which Bucky had all the fun in the world teasing her about, talking about how she’s really all dark and emo at heart. It made India laugh like a cute dork, and it felt good, and like the whole date might actually be good until they sat down at the booth and had nothing to talk about.

It’s easier when they get the menus, talking briefly about what’s good and what they prefer. Then there’s the weird silence again.

“I thought you were supposed to be defending your honour as a good date,” India jokes.

Bucky throws his tissue at her. “I am.”

“Do you throw tissues at all your dates? Because that’s pretty impressive, totally a winner.”

“Shut up.”

India rolls her eyes, and they keep up the familiar back and forth for a bit until things get easier between them, and less weird so it’s not like they’re on a date (which, hello, they are).

The food comes around, and the first thing India says is, “Okay, why are you holding your chopsticks so low?”

“What?”

“You’re holding your chopsticks so low. I swear, all white people do that, and I don’t get it.”

Bucky frowns, looking down at the way his fingers are arranged. “That’s how everyone does it.”

“It’s really not, dude,” India says sympathetically.

“Well then how _do_ they do it?”

India scoffs, holding her hands up. “It’s only our first date, I’m not about to pull the whole touchy feely teaching you how to use your hands thing.” She laughs when she catches sight of Bucky’s tinted cheeks. “Nerd.”

The rest of the time passes in some forced conversation and a whole lot of silence. Bucky feel terrible for it; India deserves better than what he’s pathetically giving right now. His heart isn’t in it; he’s not even trying to flirt or ease the tension just by cracking his regular jokes, and he can’t expect India to do all the talking. Part of it is just that him and India aren’t _like_ this and it feels weird, but most of it just reminds Bucky why Natasha really refused to set him up. It’s just not a good time.

He groans and scrubs his face with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he groans, looking at her between his fingers. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.”

Oddly, India doesn’t look surprised. She slumps in her seat though, clearly a little upset.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” she assures him. “I texted Sarah to drop by a while ago, she’ll be here soon, anyway.” Before Bucky has a chance to inquire about that, she asks, “It’s Steve, isn’t it?”

Bucky swallows. He knows denying it would be futile, but he does it anyway.

“Men,” India sighs exasperatedly.

He feels like an asshole, and even tells her that, but she tells him it’s no big deal. She says she kind of expected it, anyway, which makes Bucky falter.

Sarah pops in a few minutes later, and India gives her this quick look before excusing herself, ditching them to go pee.

“Hey,” Sarah mutters, sliding into the newly vacated seat.

“What, is this a date switchout? Or, like, speed dating? Because if it’s speed dating, it’s a lot longer than the typical ones.”

Sarah laughs forcibly. “No, no. I’m just waiting for India to get back. I think I’m supposed to take your place and you’re supposed to leave, she wasn’t really clear on that. Not that – ” she says, stopping with a stressed expression. “I’m not stealing your date again.”

“Again?”

“Th… You and Steve. I didn’t know… I mean I did, but you said you were… And I didn’t mean for it to be anything, or for it to make things weird between us, I…”

“Just you and your big mouth?” Bucky says jokingly. “You tend to babble a lot when you’re flustered. But hey, don’t worry, alright? It’s… That’s a long time ago. I held out a grudge too long and – We’re fine, Sarah. You and I are good, alright?”

Sarah nods, still looking doubtful. Bucky rolls his eyes fondly and gets up, prompting for her to do the same so he can give her a proper truce hug.

“I’ve known you longer than I have Steve, and I know you’re a good person. You don’t have to apologize or anything, alright?”

Sarah nods into his shoulder and pulls back, her smile considerably more relaxed.

“Wow, this is sappy,” India announces when she comes back. “You guys make up? Because it sucks having to talk to you separately at work; it means I actually have to _walk_.”

“God forbid,” Bucky mutters. India narrows her eyes at him venomously.

“You’re still picking up the bill, by the way. This was a date, whether it was a good one or not. Speaking of, you’re definitely the issue during your blind dates. Terrible.”

Bucky scowls playfully, but he can’t let himself be mad right now. It’d be too pointless, and it’s the rough times like these that remind him what and who he really has by his side. He’d be dumb to let this go.

Before they part, Bucky makes sure to give India a hug and apologize again, only this time she doesn’t bother offering him any condolence, just smiling with downturned eyes and nodding, her and Sarah walking the opposite way to grab some dessert while he makes his way to his bike. Can he blame Steve for this? The sardonic part of him says yes, of course he can, but the logical part (the one Bucky hates the most) says no, it has nothing to do with Steve. If anything, it’s Bucky’s fault for falli-

Whatever. He’ll blame Steve for it, just for tonight.

***

That same night, Steve comes back relatively late, the school having held a bunch of unnecessary staff meetings that stated mandatory attendance. He’s quiet about coming in, as he almost always is these days, not wanting to bother Bucky in the slightest.

Steve’s eyebrows draw together when he hears Bucky’s voice coming from the empty office. Is someone over? Steve’s about to let it be, to give Bucky his privacy like he deserves, but then he hears a grunt followed by a, “Goddamnit, I’m talking to a pair of fish about my life problems.”

Against his better judgement, a perplexed Steve tries to listen in more closely.

“Alright, Judd. You tell me. I’m counting on you, because I know how fucking crazy it is to be talking to fish and I need you to prove to me that I’m not crazy. So… Swim right for yes and left for no?”

Steve smiles absent-mindedly, then catches himself and frowns.

“If you… I said some bad stuff, didn’t I?” Pause. “God, Judd, you can’t swim back and forth. What is that? An ‘I don’t know?’ Because I’m pretty sure you heard us yelling.” Bucky laughs lightly, though it sounds sad. “God, if Steve were here he’d probably say something dumb like ‘we shouldn’t argue around the kids, it’s not good for them.’”

Steve bites back a laugh and nods to no one. Maybe Bucky knows him better than he gives him credit for.

“I miss him,” Bucky says, so quietly that it almost escapes Steve’s notice. “I mean… I’m mad, don’t get me wrong. Or maybe just… We both said stuff, but I miss not having to tip toe around each other. And don’t tell Steve, but I feel kind of lonely. I got Clint and Nat, heck, I know I do. But they’re all too touchy feely with each other and it makes me feel weird to intrude on that now. They don’t do anything in front of me, but still.” He groans loudly, and Steve hears an ominous thump, perhaps suggesting that Bucky fell back onto the bare floor.

“This week has been so fucking _long_ and it just _sucks_. I want to hug someone.”

Steve swallows thickly, nudging his own nose before slipping back out of the apartment. He shouldn’t be listening when Bucky’s putting his confidence in the fish.

His chest is tight when he gets outside, the warm breeze trying to cut through to him. He can’t help but be concerned for Bucky; he’s seen Bucky dragging himself around the house, all lifeless and tired. With all their troubles, Steve can’t let his anger hold out against the need to just _be there_ for Bucky. His only worry is is that maybe he left it too long, that maybe he messed up too much that Bucky doesn’t want to listen to Steve, or to sort things out.

Steve walks around aimlessly, a terse tension straining his shoulders as he seeks refuge in a local Starbucks and orders an Americano, sliding into an unoccupied booth and trying to organize his thoughts.

( _I miss him._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha... yeah judging by the amount of people who were like "Bucky has a son!!???" (at least 3 I know of) I fucked up in forgetting to mention them, but I assumed y'all lived with me in this little universe we created and kinda saw them sitting and being fed in the bg... oops. That's okay, whatever. Hope y'all have a good one. ...Low-key feeling a writing block coming upon me which is tragic considering how close we are. 
> 
> Up next: talking is good. 
> 
> P.s. I didn't forget the playlist; I'm still waiting on the artwork and slowly adding/removing a few tracks here and there and trying to find the right closing.   
> Please talk to me on tumblr bkcybvrnes just for chill or w/e pls


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really fuckin giddy for what's to come, because I recently finished writing a chapter that is like.... it's one that I've been waiting to write since the day we finished planning the entire thing. Anyway, have fun. Love you guys a lot! - G
> 
> I can personally attest that the chapter she is talking about is like most def the best chapter of the entire series and I can't wait for all of you lovely people to read it :) - India

Bucky’s in the kitchen later that night, and Steve is hungry. Too hungry to let Bucky being present keep him away from the fridge apparently, so he winds up in there, though both of them are quiet.

Steve checks but there are no leftovers, so he figures he’ll whip up a quick alfredo sauce while Bucky washes the dishes that have accumulated. When Steve’s reaching to get a knife from the dish rack he unintentionally bumps into Bucky, but it goes unacknowledged. They keep at it, dancing around each other bit by bit, and all the while Steve can’t stop thinking.

It’s easy to notice that Bucky’s been spaced out recently, and the more Steve sees it the more concerned he gets. This whole situation is beyond his grasp, but he knows he has to do something, _say_ something. They have to resolve this one way or another.

It happens a couple more times, Bucky bumping into Steve, Steve brushing against Bucky, and at one point Steve barely misses nicking the tip of his own finger off. It’s not funny by any means, but he keeps replaying the moment in his head and is struggling not to laugh. He’s trying so hard, but eventually a short chuckle escapes his lips, and then he can’t stop it, putting the knife down and folding over the counter to prop himself up.

Bucky, who’s been quiet up until now, is also giggling uncontrollably, though he’s wearing a ticked off scowl through it all. “I’m supposed to be mad at you!” he whines when Steve looks over, a warmth rushing through him at the sound of Bucky’s laugh. Bucky keeps frowning and trying to be moody but Steve won’t stop laughing, which makes Bucky smile unwillingly. “Shut up!”

The laughter dissipates not long after, and the two of them are left with small smiles and a weird atmosphere that’s both tense and calm. Steve catches sight of the lingering smile in Bucky’s eyes, and an overwhelming urge takes over him; one that tells him ‘ _you can’t lose that._ ’

“Oh, shit!” Steve exclaims, turning abruptly to the sauce on the cooker, sighing with relief when he sees it isn’t stuck to the bottom of the pan. He turns back around to Bucky after reducing the heat, but Bucky’s got his back to him again. Steve clears his throat. “Buck?”

Bucky turns his head a bit, but that’s all. Steve takes what he can get.

“Buck, I think… I think we should talk.”

Bucky swallows, and after a few terse moments, he nods.

“Food first?” Steve asks, to which Bucky nods again. Steve lets out a breath he’s been holding since that night he walked out and gets two dishes from the cupboard, ready to plate their dinners.

Here goes.

Bucky insists on picking what to watch, but he spends too long trying to find something new, then ends up settling for a comedian’s show who, despite being amiable and jovial, is not actually _that_ funny, though he thinks that’s more for it to be family safe to some degree. Steve half-heartedly thinks to himself that the comedian is kind of cute, but then Bucky lets out a short laugh and when Steve chances a look at him he forgets his previous train of thought.

Bucky sighs quietly when it finishes, a sheepish smile fading from his lips as he turns the TV off. It’s silent for a while, both of them knowing what’s coming, neither of them brave enough to be the first to speak.

Steve chews on his lip and turns on the sofa to face Bucky better, watching him fidget in place. An eerie sense of calm floods Steve’s lungs just by looking at Bucky, and he has to fend off a fond smile that’s worming its way onto his features. Even in all the tension, in the twiddling of Bucky’s thumbs, in everything that’s happened to put Steve in the position he was that night and everything since then, he can’t help it. Bucky’s just…

 _Stop._ Steve’s mouth twitches into a frown and he looks over at the black screen of the TV. _He deserves better._ His eyebrows draw together, and suddenly his mind is fighting itself. _What is better? Who gets to decide? Isn’t that his call? Shouldn’t you let him decide this time? But don’t you also know that you’re a wreck, and that Bucky deserves the best and you can’t give that to him? You’re a wreck, Steve._

“Steve?” Bucky asks warily, watching him with concern. Steve snaps out of his reverie, realizing suddenly how tight his throat is. “Are you okay?”

Steve nods. “’M good.”

Bucky watches for a second longer before deciding Steve really is okay, then he looks away. The silence settles again, like still water that was agitated by a fresh drop and is still trembling in the wake of the disturbance.

Steve thinks about earlier in the kitchen, about the moment of ease they had in the relentless trouble otherwise. He thinks about the light in Bucky’s eyes that he hasn’t seen for days, and _god_ what he’d do to have him smile or laugh again.

As the time passes Steve thinks about passing brushes of skin on skin, of sharp, witty lines and the spark of flirtation that’s always been between them. He’s so resolute on not letting anything happen but he doesn’t even realize that, when he does something, he’s probably leading Bucky on. Maybe if he just… explains. If he explains it, Bucky will understand. He’ll understand that stepping back is better for the both of them, and Steve will relent. Right now, he just wants them back on solid ground.

Even in his conflicted haze, his heart tugging him where his mind keeps telling him not to touch with a ten-foot pole, Steve knows that he needs Bucky. They’ve already gone further than they were meant to, and this argument is just more proof of that. If they distance themselves Bucky might not visit the club, or he’ll not be so protective; won’t risk Steve losing his job.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve clears his throat. Bucky looks at him expectantly. Steve recalls Bucky talking to Judd, and a quick smile passes over his lips, coupled with a deep pang. Bucky shouldn’t be sad.

“I – I don’t really know how to…” Steve runs a hand through his hair, then looks down at his hands. He swallows and starts fresh, making sure to look Bucky dead in the eye when he says, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, Steve, you don’t have to – ”

Steve frowns. “Don’t do this. Let me speak for a minute. I… I’m sorry, Buck. For everything I said that night, I… I can’t say I didn’t mean any of it, because some of it still stands, but that’s not to say I meant to direct it at you. It was a bad night, and… I can’t lose my job, at least not like that. If there was a scene I would’ve gotten fired and word would’ve been out across the clubs in town and no one would hire me. I shouldn’t have been so mad; you were just…” He scrubs his hands over his face and slumps against the couch. It shouldn’t be this exhausting, but it is, and dancing around words to make sure he doesn’t say something wrong and spark a second argument is too much effort. He takes a minute, insisting that Bucky just wait until he can gather his thoughts a bit.

“I trust you to understand me, Buck, so I’m not going to keep being careful with my words. If you choose to take something the wrong way, then that’s your choice, but give me the benefit of the doubt. I just want a truce here.” Bucky nods, tucking his knees into his chest and propping his chin on top.

“I can’t lose that job. And if that _shit_ happens, it happens.” Bucky bristles, visibly uncomfortable at the idea, but Steve ignores it. “Sometimes I can avoid it, but sometimes I can’t. I’ve learned to deal with it, and I know I should be more grateful for your attempt to… do whatever it is you were going to do, but that’s just not how it works, Buck. I don’t know if you or anyone will ever understand that, but all I’m asking for is that you respect that.”

“I do,” Bucky cuts in in a defensive tone.

“I know,” Steve says, voice strained. “But… If you do, then I need you to not do that again.”

Bucky frowns at a spot on the couch between them, and Steve can’t help but notice the ill expression he’s wearing. “You just expect me to let that happen to you? Steve, I – ”

“Buck, I know you have the best intentions in mind, but this…”

“I can’t ask you to promise anything,” Bucky says decidedly, nodding to himself. “I know I can’t; I’m not in any position to ask that of you – ” _It’s not like I’m your boyfriend_ – “I’m just worried about you.”

Steve takes a minute to dull the irritation that’s appearing, trading it out for a reminder that Bucky’s being entirely sincere; he’s not like other people Steve has had and left in his life, they type that look for any excuse to convince Steve to drop the job.

“I just… I just want you to be careful. I don’t think anyone should have to deal with harassment like that, and I don’t care about how little integrity the club has. It doesn’t mean people should be allowed to…” he trails off, realizing his voice got a bit louder. “Sorry.”

Steve leans forward, frowning immediately. “Hey, no. It… I get it. It’s just… Other people don’t get me. You do. It’s okay.”

Bucky blinks, sinking into the couch. He refrains from looking at Steve. He chews at his lip thoughtfully for some time, and then he turns to Steve again. “I’m sorry, though. I said some stuff…”

“We both did,” Steve offers, and that, along with Bucky’s half smile, seems to seal their truce. But Steve isn’t satisfied. Bucky’s not really smiling, and Steve… He still has things to say, things he needs to explain to Bucky, things that Bucky deserves to know.

“I – ” Bucky starts, just as Steve opens his mouth.

“Go ahead,” Steve insists gently.

Bucky hesitates. If he acknowledges what he’s about to say it makes it real, makes it clear to Steve how he feels. But he has to, because if he doesn’t say something now it’ll just get worse, and the fallout won’t be as simple to walk out of as this one. He can’t let himself fall when no one will be there to catch him.

“I don’t know if saying this makes everything weird, but… is it… Can I ask you to hold off on the… I’ll do it too, but this…” Bucky groans, frustrated by his incapability to form a sentence that doesn’t give away the truth. He leaves his head tipped onto the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling as he tries to find the right words.

Somewhere in the silence, Steve clears his throat, and suggests very quietly, “… The flirting?”

Bucky laughs sheepishly, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He feels fucking ridiculous. He sighs and looks towards Steve, not attempting for eye contact. “Yeah. Um. It just – ”

“It’s okay,” Steve cuts in, “you don’t have to explain anything.” If Steve’s totally honest, he’d rather not hear the explanation for fear of it being either exactly what he _wants_ to hear, or of it being the exact opposite. “If it’s… If it’s any consolation that’s what I wanted to talk about, too.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Kind of. Related to.” Bucky raises an eyebrow, waiting for Steve to start. Thing is, it’s difficult. Steve’s sitting there, trying to find a way to not get overwhelmed by the feelings attached to the memory. “It’s… about my ex.”

Bucky nods warily, and before they know it, Steve is rambling off an extremely censored recount of his and Peggy’s final few weeks together. Bucky doesn’t give in to the twinge of jealousy he feels at the fondness in Steve’s smile when he talks about how amazing Peggy is, because now is not the time. It’s a lot to take in, and a couple of times Steve has to pause to keep level-headed.

The whole time Bucky pays attention, and even in what little he’s told, he can tell what it’s coming to. In Steve’s self-deprecation and his explanation of why he couldn’t let himself hold Peggy back, why he had to let her go, Bucky sees it coming. It still hurts when Steve ends it with, “And that… That’s what I don’t want to do to anyone again.”

 _Anyone_. The word is said, but all that Bucky hears is his own name, and he gets it, but he doesn’t get how Steve thinks he’s anything less than what Bucky sees him for. Bucky wants to tell him that it won’t be like that for them, that if they take the jump, he can… But Steve is barely holding himself together, and when Bucky grabs the tissue box to offer him one, Steve takes it. Not today, Buck. Not today.

While Steve’s trying to hide his sniffles, Bucky’s stomach starts to turn. Steve just came out and told Bucky one of the biggest things about him, something that was clearly difficult to share, and here’s Bucky with nothing to give back. He knows exactly what he _could_ say, but the thought of it makes his throat tight and suddenly he can’t think clearly, his thoughts too rapid, colliding together until all he sees is a complete fucking disaster.

“Buck?” Steve says quietly. His hand is on Bucky’s forearm, eyebrows drawn in. “What’s up?”

“I – I can’t tell you, Stevie, I can’t. I’m sorry, I just – ”

It takes Steve a second to catch up, but once he does he’s a lot closer, shaking his head. “Hey, no. No, that’s not why I told you that. You don’t have to tell me anything, Buck. Don’t feel like you have to, please. It’s okay. If you’re okay, that’s all I need to know.”

Bucky looks up at Steve, his vision blurred from the tears that are threatening to spill. “I’m sorry,” he says again. Steve’s frown deepens, and he pulls him into a hug, remembering Bucky’s words with Judd earlier.

“It’s okay, Buck. You don’t have to be.”

“’M pushing you away.”

“Uh-uh. It’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

Bucky makes a pained noise and presses his forehead against Steve’s shoulder, staying there for a minute until he can come across semi-composed when he pulls back.

“Thank you.”

“Stop being a jerk,” Steve says lightly. Bucky smiles, but it’s forced. “But I do have one question for you.”

“Hmm?”

“ _WHAT IS THIIIIIIIIS_?” Steve yells, pulling back to point at Bucky’s face. Bucky stares at Steve in complete horror.

“You just fucked up a prime meme,” he mutters in despair. Bucky drops his head into his hands and groans. “There is no hope for you, Steve. None at all.”

Steve laughs, pushing Bucky’s shoulder. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Steve if you’re going to offer something unsanitary I will have to remind you what we just talked about.”

“No, no. I was just going to suggest we start a new show.”

“On Netflix?”

Steve nods, his grin borderline maniacal. “It’s called Suits.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. Sorry for dragging y'all through the mud like that, but thanks for those of you that are sticking around.  
> If anyone's curious about the comedian, it's John Mulaney! I've watched a couple of his routines and I love him it's the kind of feel good comedy you need on a down night. 10/10 recommend. 
> 
> Up next: Gavin makes a reappearance, our boys open up a little more, and bread. Ohhh boy, bread.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Guess who's dyin' with oncoming uni stuff and stuck in a writing block! But oh man... man oh man thank y'all so much for stickin with me and all you new readers. Why you hang around I'll never know. <3 -G
> 
> hope everyone's weekend will be better than mine lol happy reading :-) -India

“So, Mr. Specter, why’d you drag me out to lunch today?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh, _I’m_ Harvey Specter, am I?”

Bucky shrugs, settling into the booth. “I guess so. Why, who else would you be?”

“Hard to say. You’re definitely Mike, though.”

Bucky frowns, playing with a napkin at the table. “I resent that. I’m not a wannabe puppy; I can be classy and cool.”

“That’s exactly what Mike would say,” Steve points out.

“Please, I have the big ties in this relationship. Besides, you don’t even know the significance of a skinny tie versus a _proper_ one.”

“Pray tell,” Steve implores, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Nuh uh. You get to call me Mike, then you’re Rachel.”

Steve scoffs and replies, “Is that supposed to be an insult? Because Rachel’s pretty fuckin’ awesome. Also, we might not be that far in yet, but I’m fairly sure her and Mike are going to start fucking soon.”

“Lies,” Bucky hisses. “Harvey and Mike have the most sexual tension. They are the _real_ power couple of the show.”

Steve clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “How do you even see that?”

“How do you _not_? Are we even watching the same show? Were you telling me the truth when you said you’re bisexual? Anyone without a hetero filter can see it, and that too even – ”

Someone clears their throat beside them.

“Gavin?” Steve asks incredulously. The kid smiles sheepishly back at Steve.

“Hi.”

“Uh.”

“Can I take your order?”

Steve’s mouth twitches into a frown, seemingly unable to compute the simple scenario of a teenager having a job. “You work here?”

“Steve, of course the kid works here,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “Now stop making this weird; kids don’t like seeing their teachers out of school. It’s like seeing an animal outside of a zoo.”

Gavin laughs forcedly, tampering down a small blush that’s worked its way onto his cheeks, which, unfortunately for him, doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the men before him.

Steve clears his throat and stands up, excusing himself with, “I’ll be back in a minute; that coffee went right through me.”

Bucky looks confused and says, “Wh- Steve we didn’t have any – ” Just like that, Bucky’s left alone with Gavin and the realization that he doesn’t know what Steve wants to order. He looks up to the kid and smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, he… Steve’s stupid sometimes.        I don’t know what he wants to order, so…”

“I can come back when he’s done?” Gavin suggests, eyes flitting across Bucky’s face. He ducks his head and chews on his lower lip when Bucky doesn’t stop smiling.

“If you want. It’s not that busy today though, and I’m sick of talking to Steve all the time.” Gavin raises his eyebrows, looking adorably confused. Heck, maybe if Bucky was back in high school he’d take this kid, but he’s not about to be some creepy old dude. He just wants to be nice. “How are you?”

“I – I’m good,” Gavin stumbles, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He laughs nervously again and replies, “How are you?”

“Eh, I’ve been better. But good, overall.”

“Oh. How are… things between you and Mr. Rogers?”

Bucky tilts his head, considering his usual line of rumour inducing lies, but then very quickly remembers their discussion from before; the things Bucky asked for. “Yeaaaah. I should probably clear some things up there. Steve and I aren’t together. Never have been,” Bucky admits, wincing a bit.

Gavin blinks. “Wh… But you two are so… And the… So you’re _single_?” The kid’s eyes widen in horror of his big mouth, and he rapidly slaps his palm over his lips. “I’m so sorry,” he says, voice muffled. He drops his hand back down and looks at his feet, cheeks going red. “I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have asked anything, I’m sorry.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky laughs good-naturedly. “It’s fine, really. So, it’s my first time here and I have no idea what’s good. What do you recommend?” Gavin’s eyes light up; obviously Bucky asked a question he has the experience to answer. The kid moves to stand beside Bucky so he can point at items on the menu and tell him a little about them, throwing in his favourites for good measure and trying to keep a safe distance between him and Bucky.

“Steve says you’re a good student,” Bucky says when he’s decided on what he wants to eat.

“O- oh. Really?”

Bucky nods, reaching his arms up above his head to stretch his shoulders. Damn, he needs some stress relief. “Yeah. You planning on an athletic career?”

Gavin shrugs, his eyes pulling up from what was definitely _not_ Bucky’s eye line. Oops. Bucky didn’t mean for that to happen.

“No, actually,” Gavin replies, clearing his throat. “I wanted to head into sciences.”

“No way! I did science too, once upon a time.”

“Really? What do you do now?”

Bucky scrunches his face up, sighing before he replies laboriously: “Retail. It sucks, but it pays the bills. Hoping to open a shop in the near future; it’s been long enough. But you stick to science, alright? I’m not tryna talk you out of it, and I’m not sayin’ science gets you a bum job, because I never got to finish my degree.”

Gavin nods obediently. “A shop though, that’s pretty cool.”

Bucky shrugs. It’s alright.

“What is?” Steve asks, returning with a blameless smile.

Gavin, having realized the situation at hand, stutters a little, then takes their orders before politely stepping away.

“You never told me you did science,” Steve says, but Bucky looks uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t really serious. I mean… I started out doing that, but. I guess I changed directions.”

“Yeah? How come? You’ve never really… talked about this before.”

Bucky sniffles, nudging his nose before continuing. “My parents passed pretty early. It was, uhm, a car crash, and Becca and I ended up sticking with our grandma for as long as she was around.”

“Buck,” Steve says softly, making Bucky lift his gaze to Steve’s. The way Steve’s looking at him is making Bucky’s stomach tighten. “I’m sorry.”

Feeling the heat prickling behind his eyes out of nowhere, Bucky snaps his eyes away and mumbles, “Thanks, I guess. But yeah, our grandma had a bookstore that she kept running till her last days. We had to sell it in the end, or at least our lawyer said so, and we were too young to really do anything else. I miss it sometimes, you know? In a place like Brooklyn it never really felt like a store. It just felt like home. I spent so much time there just stocking up the shelves that I could recite an entire list of sci-fi authors to you off the top of my head, even now. But, uh. I kind of… I tried to move on, and for me that was cutting ties. So that’s why you don’t see me working at Barnes & Noble right now, I guess. Wow. Shit.” Bucky laughs airily, running a hand through his hair, then over his face. “That was… A lot at once. And more than I would’ve thought to put out there right now. Sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Steve says, so softly that Bucky feels like he’s a child being soothed to sleep. “It’s okay. I’m glad you told me that.” He bites his lip and leans forward on his elbows. “Between you and me, I think it’s really cool. Almost wonder what it would’ve been like for me if I’d grown up surrounded by that many books instead of being riddled with illnesses all the time. God, I’m so glad I got out of that. Took a hell of a lot of treatment and experimentation, but it was worth it. But, uh, I’ll save that for another time. You never explained the whole science thing.”

Bucky scrunches his nose. He didn’t expect this to be the first time they actually opened up, especially after their rocky past few weeks. “It… I wanted to cut ties and I was always fascinated by the science books we had… God, I was such a fucking nerd. I got drawn in, and once I could manage with the funds left behind and Bec telling me I had to, I took it on in college.” Bucky wets his lips and hesitates. “Stuff happened and I… I needed a break. So I went on one, and after that my whole perspective shifted. Might be an easier way out, to surrender to the fact that I worked retail and decided to pick up on business and marketing in school, but I think… I think it’s what I want to do.”

Before Steve can respond Gavin makes his way back over, placing the food carefully onto the table and giving a shy smile before dashing off.

Unfortunately for Steve, Bucky feels like he’s divulged way too much information, the thought making his skin itch in a way it hasn’t in a long time. Rather than keeping up conversation, Bucky focuses intently on the food, trying his best to ignore his nagging conscience. It does get easier though. Steve pushes for a little small talk, asking about Bucky’s work, because he’s not gossiped about any customers with him since before their whole tiff.

Gavin pops in here and there again just to check if they’re enjoying their meals, but it isn’t until they’re about to leave when he actually says something more. “I hope you guys have a great rest of your day. And just so you know, I love seeing teachers outside of school. It’s like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs.”

Bucky gapes at the kid and before Gavin can shoot off, he blurts out, “Did you just make a _Mean Girls_ reference?”

Gavin stammers, his cheeks quickly staining red. “Uh, y-kinda? Yeah, yeah I did. Sorry. That was really lame, I just – ”

“You’re the best. Steve, you gotta give this kid an A in your class.”

“I think that’s improper academic conduct,” Steve speculates, though he looks very amused by the exchange.

“I don’t care. Gavin, you’re great. Good to meet you, kid.”

Gavin can’t help the grin that spreads across his lips, so he ducks his head, smiling at the ground to hide it as best he can. “It’s good to have met you, too…”

“You can call me Bucky,” Bucky offers, extending a friendly hand that Gavin hesitates to shake.

“Bucky,” Gavin repeats, then takes his hand back and grins widely. “I should probably get back to work though; get ready for the dinner rush and all. See you at school, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve gives the kid a little salute before they part ways.

“Mr. Rogers,” Bucky mutters to himself, huffing a laugh.

“Shut up _, Mr. Barnes_ ,” Steve replies mockingly.

Bucky scoffs, bumping into Steve before he mounts his bike, passing Steve the second helmet. “You can’t call me that, you’re the only teacher here.”

“What else do the old ladies who flirt back at work call you?”

Bucky groans, dropping his head as Steve gets on behind him. “James, and don’t you _dare_ start calling me that or I’m evicting you on the spot. The way they say it just…” Bucky trails off, shaking the disturbing recollection off with a shiver.

Steve laughs warmly, habitually wrapping his arms around Bucky and ignoring the warm rush that floods him, that ultimate feeling of _I missed this_. He allows it, but he can’t exactly fight it either way. But the least Steve can do is ignore it for both of their sakes, so he does.

“Okay,” he replies, and just after Bucky starts the bike and pulls off the curb, Steve mutters, “James.”

“I heard that,” Bucky bites back, being extra sharp on their next turn and scowling when Steve leans just right to reduce the attempt to scare Steve.

“You were meant to,” Steve says back, smile evident in his tone.

Since Bucky was gone some of the food spoiled, while what was salvageable was used to make dinner for a few nights, but now the two of them are left rummaging on unsatisfying take out (because Steve’s cuisine is so refined and goddamn _good_ Bucky just wants to moan every time he eats it). Instead of living like a pair of sad ass bachelors, they decide to make a pit stop on the way home and grab some groceries.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to start complaining.

“See this is why I don’t cook. Shopping is boooorrringggg and it’s takes so _looooonggggggg_. UGH!”

Steve rolls his eyes, guiding the cart leisurely down the aisle and plopping a few cans of black beans in for good measure. “Shut up, Buck. You love my cooking, and for as much as you complain I have no idea why I still feed it to you. But seriously, mouth shut. You won’t be telling me how boring shopping is when you eat dinner tonight.”

Bucky huffs like a true child and bumps against Steve, trying to find some amusement in the trip. He just wants to go home and binge watch the rest of _Suits_ , thank you very much. “Okay, so what do I do.”

Steve glances at him as they turn the corner of the aisle, shaking his head fondly. “Just walk around with me. Keep me entertained. I have very specific needs for my meals.”

“I’m surprised you’re not a chef,” Bucky mutters thoughtfully, bounding ahead to catch the front of the cart and ride along on it.

“What are you, five?” Steve asks, throwing his friend an irritated look.

“Yes. Loosen up, Stevie, it’s just shopping.”

“Yeah, and on top of the shit we have to get thanks to your neglecting my fridge, having to lug around your weight is very unappreciated.”

“Excuse me, you could’ve gone shopping but you chose not to. And it’s _my_ fridge,” Bucky corrects, then looks affronted. “Are you saying I’m not feather light?”

“No, and considering that all you used the fridge for before I moved in was just leftover takeout, it’s _mine_.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, glaring sharply at Steve. “Mine.”

“Mine.”

“ _Miiiiine,_ ” Bucky whines, frowning as if he’s about to throw a childish tantrum.

Steve stares him down, slowing the cart as they reach the dairy section. “Ours. Good?”

A flash of something unrecognizable flashes across Bucky’s face, but he’s quick to return to a contemplative frown before he nods his head decisively. “Fine. _Our_ fridge.”

What with their roaming around and Steve’s tendency to stop and check the quality of each item he picks up with great thoroughness, Bucky quickly gets very, _very_ bored. But the good thing about being Bucky goddamn Barnes is that he can just as quickly find a mode of entertainment. Unfortunately that equates to immaturity, or so Steve sees it, groaning as Bucky darts off with the shopping cart every time Steve turns to put something in there. By the sixth or seventh time it happens (yes, Bucky is very committed), Steve’s arms are full of items he has yet to put in the cart and as frustrating as it is, he can’t help but laugh.

“God, you’re such a piece of shit. Stop fucking about,” Steve says, and he ignores Bucky’s teasing at his use of “Bad Language” in a public place where little kids could hear. Because he’s not a completely ignorant imbecile, Steve mutters an apology to a passer-by, hoping they’ll notice that Bucky’s a pain in the ass and is the real cause of his blaspheming.

Thinking Bucky might finally give in, Steve steps forward to relieve his arms of the pointless weight, but Bucky hops onto the cart and rides away again, cheering as he goes. Steve sighs, dropping his head and giving a little shake of his shoulders when he laughs. This is hopeless, and boy does he know it.

Thing is: living with Bucky makes Steve think he knows what’s expected of him to end this and, unfortunately for Steve, it requires stripping him of his dignity. Thankfully he’s not too bothered what other people think of him, so he groans a little before running after Bucky, holding onto the lettuce for dear life lest it be squished under the crummy feet of a toddler.

They keep dashing around and getting _super_ dirty looks from parents and old ladies alike, but neither of them really care all that much. Steve’s a little ready to give up the game, but Bucky still shoots around one last corner before pulling to a screeching halt, wherein Steve almost runs into him.

“Oh my God,” Bucky whispers, blinking back tears as he stares at the display before him.

Once he’s emptied his arms, Steve glances over Bucky’s shoulder to see loaves of fresh bread wrapped in plastic, each package open on one end to let out the tantalizing smell that entices customers to clear off the display.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Bucky repeats, snapping out of his haze and stepping forward to pick up a loaf. He brings it up to his nose and sniffs at the bread (quite comically, though Steve can’t say that aloud), then lets out an unprecedented moan. Steve almost chokes.

“Buck! You can’t make noises like that in public!” Steve hisses, grabbing the bread from Bucky and tossing it back where it came from. Bucky makes grabby hands at it, pouting intensely.

“It smells so fucking _good_ Stevie, smell it! Can we get some, please, _please_ , Stevie?”

Steve rolls his eyes and picks the assaulted loaf back up, tossing it into the cart. “Fine, but stop being so weird, we’re in public.”

“Steve, you just chased me around this fucking shop for a good five minutes. What’s left of our dignity will hardly be tarnished by me being a bread slut.”

“You shouldn’t say that, you know,” Steve comments subconsciously, heading towards the checkout.

“Say what? Slut? But it’s true, Stevie, I’m such a slut for fresh baked bread like this, it just,” he pauses, picking up the loaf and taking a deep breath again, groaning on his exhale. “If I were you, I’d strip for this bread, not for money. Oh, the things I’d do for it. _Fuck_. I’m so hungry; I just want to eat this bread. It smells so good.”

Steve grimaces, enduring Bucky’s babbling as he falls deeper in love with some bread that will never love him back. He doesn’t shut up about it even when they leave the store, insisting on holding the bag with the bread over to the bike.

“Are you sure you can drive, Buck? You gave the cashier a really mean death glare when she asked to take it from you so she could scan it.”

Bucky sulks, settling the shopping bags onto the handles and getting onto the bike. “I’ll be fine. You just worry about what will happen if you don’t lean right and make me lose my baby.”

Steve snaps his mouth shut and makes sure to be extra attentive while Bucky takes them both home. By the time they make it to the building, Steve has a voice recording started up, catching every bit of Bucky’s loud blabbing about how he can’t stop _thinking_ about the goddamn bread.

The only time Bucky actually shuts up is when he’s stuffing his face full of his half (three quarters, as Steve generously relinquished his share to a good cause), and even then he’s moaning with his mouth full half the time. Whatever makes him happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... the bread... was inspired by yours truly.... i am a bread fucker..... the truth comes out... oh man if you guys smelt that bread you'd know what me n buck mean. ohhhh man. half of that dialogue was me talking to my momma the entire ride around shops/walkin thru costco/goin home. it took way too long for me to actually be able to eat it but oh man was it ever worth it. 
> 
> Up next: Fun stuff, sad stuff, n a date!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter cautions at the end, as always :-)   
> Happy Valentine's day! I apologize for the late update it's been busy :c I saw Deadpool yesterday though!!!! Died when the CW trailer popped up... oh man. -G
> 
> for all you Americans enjoy your long weekend :-) -India

_Because I love you_.

Pfft, yeah right. Bucky scuffs his nose as he texts Natasha, asking her for another set up, but one that’s actually good this time. He really, really needs to get out of this hell. And it’s not Steve’s fault, but it really _is_. He can’t blame him, but he _can_.

So instead of dealing with those conflicting thoughts, Bucky’s going to deny his irrational almost-outburst from their argument full of lies and have a whole line-up of dates. Maybe less blind than before, but he’s going to do this. Finals are almost over, and summer is on the rise. He’ll have to take on more work, but even then Bucky will have too much time on his hands to keep sane with. So he’ll do the logical thing and go on dates. So many dates.

Because he doesn’t love Steve. He does _not_ love Steve. Maybe like a friend, like Clint or Nat, or like a brother, but not like…

But it’s okay; Bucky has to study and focus. Finals first, then life crises.

**Nat:** _Got you up with a co-worker on Saturday. Want her number? I know for a fact she’s clean and nice. You guys might hit it off._

**Bucky Barnes:** _ha. unlikely, but uh… i wanna say yes but also no to the number?_

**Nat:** _Probably better for her sake that she doesn’t get to know you over text. You’ll scare her away before she even meets you and won’t show up._

Bucky scowls at his phone, then openly sends Nat a slew of middle finger emojis.

“Someone offend you?” Steve asks, stepping out of his room and joining Bucky on the couch.

Bucky shrugs. “Nat, but she always does.”

“What’d she say?” Steve kicks his feet up on the coffee table, which Bucky promptly knocks down.

“Trying to convince me that it’s a bad idea for me to text whoever I’m going on a date with next. Thinks I’ll scare her off before I even meet her.”

Steve shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”

Bucky pouts, socking Steve in the arm. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” he mutters, mumbling the word, “traitor.”

***

The lifespan of a pet goldfish is five to ten years, so Google says. It was only a matter of time, and Steve should have seen it coming since he dragged the poor things all the way from D.C., but it was still a shock to the system when, on one mournful Thursday afternoon, Steve came home to see Judd floating lifelessly at the top of the bowl.

He’s sitting on the office floor, staring solemnly at the fish tank as Winona swims about. It might just be his own superimposition, but Steve’s pretty sure that even Winona is a little less lively knowing her best friend is…

“He’s dead,” Steve says quietly when he senses Bucky’s presence outside the door. He heard him come in a few minutes ago. “I came in here to feed them, and he – ” Steve cut himself off, muffling his words into the crook of his arm.

“Oh, Stevie,” Bucky says gently, kneeling down behind Steve and rubbing a reassuring hand up Steve’s back. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve sniffles, and Bucky pouts with sympathy, albeit light-heartedly. As much as he loved the little guy, he was a goldfish. Steve, apparently on the same train of thought, shakes his head and sits up straight, wiping the corners of his eyes quickly. “It’s… He’s just a fish. It’s stupid, anyway.”

“Hey,” Bucky cuts in softly. “I don’t believe that and I know you don’t either. You loved that dude, and he loved you back. He was a special fish, don’t deny him that.”

Steve lets out a short, disheartened laugh that makes Bucky frown.

“Tell you what,” Bucky says, wanting to hug Steve, but not trusting himself enough to actually do it. “A special fish like Judd deserves a special ceremony.”

“We can’t do a burial,” Steve mumbles quietly, gaze not focused entirely on the fishbowl that sits in his line of sight. “We don’t have a garden, or a porch with a plantpot. And… It wouldn’t be good to put him in one of the house plants.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully, wiggles off his haunches to sit cross-legged beside Steve. “I mean… we could go to a park or something?”

Steve scrunches his nose, dropping his head onto Bucky’s shoulder. “Probably not legal.”

“The only other choice… It’s not so dignified, but we could do a…” Bucky trails off, cringing at his line of thought. Definitely not dignified.

“A toilet flush?” Steve asks, not sounded all that averted to the idea. Bucky nods.

“We could invite our friends,” Bucky offers, vaguely aware of his wording, unsure of when _his_ friends became _their_ friends, but not at all regretting it.

“You would do that? For a goldfish?” Steve asks, and he sounds hopeful in a broken way that makes it impossible for Bucky to even consider going against his own suggestion.

“Not just any goldfish,” Bucky says seriously, though he’s got a light, playful tone in his voice that he hopes will make Steve feel a little better. “Your goldfish.”

“I thought they were our kids,” Steve mutters, and Bucky huffs.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right,” Bucky says to indulge Steve, not having enough heart to turn that down despite their tiff and Bucky’s own request to quit flirting. Those lines all vanished in the matter of their fish.

So that’s how, three hours later, the two of them end up crammed into their small bathroom along with Tony, Clint, and Natasha. For saying it’s a fish funeral, all of them are holding up well, at least keeping face for Steve’s sake. Tony looks very uncomfortable, but his loyalty to Bucky stops him from making any unwelcome witty comments. Clint looks about two seconds away from bursting into laughter, so Bucky not so subtly stomps heavily onto his friend’s toes, forcing Clint to muffle a cry as his eyes tear up. Natasha, in contrast to the other two, is the perfect sympathizer, consoling Steve and nodding where appropriate, throwing in a word for good measure. That being said, Bucky did notice an expression of sardonic disbelief at the whole thing when Bucky opened the door for her and Clint when they arrived.  

After Steve says a few words about his son – who will forever and always remain in his memory, and as the single thing Winona will remember for the rest of her own lifetime despite having a short memory span – he exhales heavily, shutting his eyes tight as he flushes the toilet.

Once that’s done Steve offers for them to join him and Bucky in a wake, where he’ll probably call in a few pizzas, but all of them kindly decline, giving their best wishes to the parents before scrambling over each other at the door to leave.

When the door falls shut behind Natasha, Steve lets out a short laugh, then another, and another, until finally he can’t _stop_.

“Wh-” Bucky starts, looking both stunned and concerned. “Y-you were so _sad_!”

Steve folds over, an arm over his stomach in attempt to ease the ache that’s growing with every missing breath. “Th- they watched me tr-tragically flush a dead fish down the toilet,” Steve gets out between his laughter. He’s still grinning when his laughter comes to a stop, raising a sleeve to wipe the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. He looks Bucky dead in the eye when he says, “Your friends are the fucking best.”

Bucky nods, agreeing in his confusion. “Yeah, they’re alright. Are you…?”

Steve shakes his head, smile still glowing. “I’m fine. I… It sucks, and I was sad, but you guys are just too much. I appreciated that, Buck, I really did. As stupid as it was – and _oh my God_ , I wish I got that on video – it made me feel way better.” He shrugs, his smile turning a little sad. “I’ll miss him, but he was just a fish. I’ll live.”

Bucky stares at Steve like he has two heads, then shakes himself to clear out all the perplexity.

“Aww, cheer up, Buck,” Steve says mockingly, stepping over to pinch Bucky’s cheeks and lift them up to force Bucky to smile. Bucky slaps his hands away and steps out of Steve’s reach.

“Fuck off. Idiot,” he mumbles, smiling all the same.

Instead of calling for pizza, Steve calls in for some Thai food, figuring that Bucky deserves his favourite after having endured Steve’s dramatics.

The second Bucky opens the door to the delivery boy – one Bucky’s seen before – Steve yells, “THE GOLDFISH DIED!”

Bucky throws the kid an apologetic look before looking over at his shoulder towards Steve and replying just as loudly, “IT’S YOUR FAULT STEVE!”

“HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME? I WOULDN’T HURT MY BABY LIKE THAT!”

“ _YOUR_ BABY? WHAT HAPPENED TO _OUR_ BABIES?”

“THEY STOPPED BEIN’ YOURS WHEN YOU ACCUSED ME OF BEIN’ A BAD PARENT!”

“Uh, I don’t mean to interrupt but I’ve got a few more orders to fill in the next few minutes or else the meals are free and I really can’t – ” the delivery boy says, stopping dead in his tracks when Steve marches up to him.

“MY GOLDFISH!” Steve cries mournfully, hold his act for one more second before cracking up. “Sorry dude. God, you should see your face. Buck, tip him somethin’ extra, yeah?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, watching as Steve retreats to his room. When he comes back out, Steve sees Bucky giving the delivery boy these _eyes_ , and everything about his body language is suggestive. He even flutters his eyelashes a bit, and the delivery boy is blushing something fierce.

“Must be somethin’ to be paid for your… _services_ ,” Bucky says, borderline worrying if this counts as harassment. He’s pretty sure it does, so he’s about to seal up when the guy asks, “Your, uh, your arm. It works?”

Bucky laughs a little, bringing a hand up to wiggle his fingers, and with a quick thought, making them vibrate.

Steve makes an inaudible noise in the back of his throat. Oh he did not know Bucky could do that.

The delivery boy’s eyes widen, and Steve clears his throat, causing Bucky to break his act and grin at Steve, fingers still going.

“You paid?” Steve asks, and when Bucky nods, he politely shuts the door in the delivery boy’s face, grabbing the food from the table beside the door and taking it inside.

“Okay, but you gotta admit that one was good, right?” Bucky says, following Steve to the couch and flopping down carelessly. He pinches Steve with his left hand when Steve doesn’t reply, and Steve should really just change the topic, because he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to think about what Bucky can do with his fingers every time he touches Steve.

“Yeah. So, should we start on season four?”

Bucky shrugs. “I got my first final tomorrow, but I’m not the type to study and eat. Just one episode.”

They end up watching half the season in one sitting.

***

Finals drag by (quite successfully despite the stress they induced), and soon Bucky’s juggling extra shifts at work with half decent blind dates, plus his attempts to figure out how and what to do to get a store running. He’s got one year left, and he has to be pre-emptive in planning if nothing more.

So when Steve comes home from the high school, he finds Bucky hunched over his laptop in a way that cannot be good for his back.

“Sit up straight, you slob,” Steve says, chucking his bag on the floor and flopping onto the sofa. He groans loudly, and when Bucky doesn’t react, inhales deeply and groans twice as loud.

“Yes, your highness?” Bucky says sarcastically, still not moving or taking his eyes off his screen. Steve rolls his eyes and reaches over, weaving through Bucky’s hands that are trying to shoo him away and shutting the lid of the laptop. “That’s rude,” Bucky mumbles.

“So are you. Didn’t even ask me how my day was.”

Bucky lolls his head to one side to eye Steve. “You groaned twice, very loudly. Same as yesterday, you can’t wait for the last few weeks of classes to hurry the fuck up so that you can get a break. In which time you’ll have to do some final grading and meetings and stuff, which you’re dreading. You can’t wait to be done at school for the summer so you can go up on stage and shake your ass so you can buy yourself a birthday present. No, Steve, I did _not_ ask how your day was, but I know regardless.”

Steve gawks, but then realizes he should probably be offended and shuts his mouth, scowling half-heartedly. He opens it again, about to retort, but realizes Bucky hit it spot on and he has nothing to say. He grumbles and folds his arms, shoving himself into the couch cushions some more. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re grumpy. Go sleep or something.”

Steve continues making disgruntled noises, tilting himself to nuzzle his head against Bucky’s shoulder in an irritating fashion. Bucky shoves him away, wrinkling his nose. “You stink. Go shower.”

“I did a stress run after class, so sue me.”

“I will if you don’t shower,” Bucky says pointedly, opening his laptop up again to look for any places that are leasing.

Steve grudgingly obeys, insistent on telling himself that Bucky has no authority over him despite it, and that showering is totally his _own_ choice because he feels gross and sticky in the slowly building heat of the approaching summer.

Another thing about the encroaching summer heat means that the apartment is warm all the time, without them having to skimp a little on heating like they had to do earlier in the year. Bucky isn’t quite so grateful for this, however, because it means that Steve comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, and Bucky has to force himself to keep his eyes on his screen.

“So how was your date last night? You didn’t tell me about it, but you looked pretty happy and haven’t trashed anyone since you got back, so I assume it went well,” Steve says. He’s quite clearly about to make his way back to the sofa, but Bucky glares at him.

“Go get some clothes on, then I’ll talk to you. And no, it’s not because you’re too distracting you asshole, it’s because I don’t want my couch to get wet.” Bucky pauses, then adds in an exaggeratedly patronizing voice, “Go be a good boy, Stevie.”

Steve sticks his tongue out. “Whatever, mom. You aren’t the boss of me,” he replies, retreating into his room.

When he comes back, Bucky immediately puts his laptop aside and begins telling Steve rather excitedly about the girl he was with last night. It was one of the most pleasing dates he’s had in a while, and upon meeting her Bucky was pretty fond of her. Alex is quite cute, with short brown hair that was tied up, and one standout feature.

Alex has a bionic arm, though it’s nothing like Bucky’s. While his is a top of the line Stark prosthetic that’s been given the greatest attention, hers isn’t quite that, looking more obviously like a prosthetic than an actual arm coated in fitting metal plates. That being said, the mechanics enticed Bucky and they spent the entire date geeking out about each other’s arms. Being an amputee from birth, Alex has gotten used to her own prosthetic pretty well, and the advances in technology have been beneficial to her being able to use her arm better. He offered Tony’s personal number in the case that she wanted to “upgrade” (her words, not his; Bucky thought hers was pretty sick either way), and she gladly took it. They didn’t really talk about each other much, but it was fun nonetheless, and Bucky managed to set up a second date.

“That’s awesome, Buck,” Steve says softly, genuinely glad that Bucky’s finally had some luck. He’s at a loss as to how so many people can go on a date with Bucky and not be charmed by him, but Steve supposes it’s more that very few people are good enough for a guy like Bucky ~~(including himself)~~. “I hope you guys get along just as well the second time.”

Steve notices his smile is tight, so he gets up and goes to the kitchen to grab some water. _That’s not fair to him. Back off, let him enjoy this. He deserves it._ When he sits back down, his smile comes easier.

***

Bucky’s next date with Alex comes pretty fast, and while he’s not nervous, he’s a little giddy when he picks her up. It’s been a while since he’s been able to feel like this.

“Hi,” Bucky says shyly when she opens the door. Alex smiles back, replying just as quietly. She slips her hand into the one that Bucky offers, and he does everything he’s meant to: driving them both to the restaurant, opening the door for her, and pulling her chair out. They don’t talk much on the way there, and Bucky can’t help but grow a little anxious.

For the most part the date is okay, and they finish eating and make more small talk like they’ve been doing, but it feels forced. The bubble of anxiety grows until it feels too thin at the walls, like it’s going to burst any second.

And then Alex clears her throat and smooths her hands over her skirt, looking at the table with a troubled look on her face. “I, uh. I need to…”

“Is everything okay?”

Alex smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes like it did the last date when he made her laugh with a couple of arm jokes (especially the one where he promised he lost it in a shirtless fight with a bear). “Yeah, just. You’re a really great guy, and I… I’m so sorry, but I just. Our last date was great, but both of us were pretty whisked up in the whole thing about our arms, and I forgot about everything for that time.”

Bucky frowns and reaches across the table to put his hand over hers tentatively. She doesn’t pull away, at least. “I just got out a… really heavy break-up, and my friend thought setting me up would be a good way to get me out of my slump, but it’s got to be a bit too much too soon. You’re really great, but I just need a little time.”

Bucky can feel his stomach sinking further and further. He nods understandingly, ignoring his own discomfort for the moment. “It’s okay, I get it. I’d hate to make you do this when you’re not ready.”

Alex smiles appreciatively, sniffing slightly before sitting up more straight, politely taking her hand back to herself. “I mean it, though. You’re a lot of fun. If… Maybe if you’re not against it I would like to maybe see you in the future?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, a tiny spark of hope starting back up. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

In spite of the hollow feeling that spreads through him, he keeps face for the rest of the evening until they go outside, Alex insisting on taking a cab back to her place. Before Bucky can drive home, he sits for a solid five minutes on his bike until he feels decent enough to start the engine.

When he gets back Steve’s not there and the lights are all off. _He’s at work_ , Bucky remembers. Chewing on his bottom lip, Bucky goes into his room and burrows into the bedsheets after a quick change, staring at the wall. The whole time he doesn’t lose that feeling.

He just can’t win, can he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: minor character death and Bucky/OFC?
> 
> shrugs our babies just need to get in line.... I have this week off I will write as much as I can to give you guys everything that's left. Love you.  
> RIP Judd. You will be missed.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the late update; I'm the worst. Fridays are just not productive and I'm just a shitty person. Hope you guys are having a good week. This one goes out to my new bud Katie, aka dorkbait. She's got an ao3, but I'd rather keep this lil dedication quiet because I'm a turd. I'm nearing the end of writing the main chunk of this fic, and I'm also nearing the day when my sister leaves our household. Fun. -G

“I forgot to ask you how your date with Alex went last night,” Steve asks, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher.

Bucky sighs, simply replying, “It didn’t. Not well, at least.”

“Oh? I thought you two hit it off the first time.”

“We did, but. If you fucking laugh, I’m tearing your arm off.” Steve snorts. “We bonded over our arms, as you should recall from my epic story telling.” Steve laughs, and Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “And this time she was less focused on that and… She just got out of a bad breakup and her friend set her up with me, and long story short, she’s not ready yet.”

Steve stands up, arching his back to crack his spine. He feels weirdly old. “Oh, man that’s a bummer. I’m sorry, Buck. Woulda been nice to have someone with some shared life experience,” he says lightly, both meaning it but also poking a little fun at Bucky.

Bucky scoffs, heading back to the living room with a fresh bottle of beer in hand. “Yeah, asshole, but I still have you and you don’t have a brain, so as for having friends with missing body parts, you’ll fill the void for the time being.”

“Oooh, feisty,” Steve teases.

Bucky presses the bottle to his lips with a smile, taking a quick swig. “Say, isn’t it someone’s birthday tomorrow?”

Steve’s eyes light up, and he shuffles on the sofa a bit. “Oh yeah! Whatshisname, America, right? The day our great country was birthed from Mother Earth!”

“I think there’s someone else, too…. Captain America, right?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Steve snaps, laughing breathily as he takes a sip of his own drink.

“You started it,” Bucky mumbles. “I have work tomorrow, though. Couldn’t get the day off. Most of the other people that can open have either booked the day off for their vacations, or are conveniently sick.”

“So you couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to shove off your opening shift onto someone else for my _birthday_?” Steve asks incredulously. He pouts like a little kid, arms crossed over his chest as he huffs. The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitch upwards, and he quickly grabs his phone and snaps a picture of Steve before he can snap out of his fake tantrum. “Hey! You ass, delete that!”

“Nope,” Bucky says proudly.

“Fine, then as compensation I get my presents now.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Who says I got you anything?”

“Fucker,” Steve says, pushing Bucky till he tips over sideways on the couch. “At least a midnight thing, come on, you’ve _gotta_ stay up.”

“Uh-uh. I have an early shift tomorrow, Stevie,” Bucky says in a patronizing voice. “I have to sleep on time.”

“As if you’ll ever do that,” Steve mutters.

“Seriously though, no gifts until tomorrow evening. And if you try to dig through my room and find them, I _will_ know. So keep your grubby little hands to yourself.”

“Grubby? Oh, now you’re in for it,” Steve says, launching himself on top of Bucky to tickle him mercilessly, his friend squirming uncomfortably as he giggles breathlessly.

“St- Steve, st- stop you fucki- STOP!”

After a few more minutes of torturing Bucky, and Bucky resolutely standing by his word, Steve stops.

“You still suck,” Steve concludes before going to bed later, a weary smile on his face.

“You do too, Stevie, so I guess we’re even.”

***

“Where are you taking me,” Steve groans, ignoring the flutter in his stomach that comes about when Bucky takes his hand, leading him off the elevator. “You’ve blindfolded me and I should either be very scared or worried that you’re breaking your own rule, so you better tell me fast.”

“Shut up,” Bucky hisses. “Come on, there’s stairs.”

“What? You – Buck, it’s pretty obvious you’re taking me up to the roof now, can I take this stupid thing off?”

Bucky hesitates for a moment. Steve’s right, but then again he wants to see him struggle up the stairs, so he grins and says, “Nope, you need to keep it on,” even though he doesn’t.

Steve groans and begrudgingly fumbles his way up the stairs behind Bucky, blushing terribly when his hand, groping for the railing, accidentally brushes against what is unmistakably Bucky’s butt. He suddenly regrets everything.

“Why are you taking me up here, anyway?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, opening the door and letting the cool air rush into the stairwell. Steve shivers a bit, and when Bucky grabs his hand to take him up the last few steps, he accepts it.

“Alright, just give me two…” Bucky trails off, and then says, “Okay, take it off.”

Steve’s hands fly up to the fabric, pulling it down from his eyes and looking at the little set up.

“It – it’s not much, but… Yeah.”

Steve is at a loss for words. Bucky’s got two lounging chairs set up, a table between them with drinks, and a basket on the floor that definitely has food in it. And he’s got the little section of the roof that they’re using for Steve’s birthday strung with lights.

“The fireworks will start soon, so we should probably eat.”

Steve nods, going to the edge of the roof and looking out across the part of the city they can see from their block. It’s not anything super special, but it’s not something he sees every day, and Steve’s chest is swelling with gratitude. “Buck…”

“You like it?”

Steve smiles out at the buildings, not feeling bold enough to turn to Bucky with the glint in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

Bucky stays silent for a while, letting Steve have his moment.

They spent most of the time after Bucky got back in the apartment, and it’s nearing 9:30pm, when the fireworks are due to start. While Bucky was at work, Nat and Clint popped in for a quick visit before they had to leave for their own jobs, gifting Steve (and Bucky) with a brand new goldfish. Needless to say, Steve was moved, if not a little surprised, by the gesture and thanked them endlessly, giving them tight hugs and forcing himself not to get overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Tony wanted me to give you this,” Bucky says, and Steve turns around to see Bucky holding a gift box in his hands.

“He didn’t – ”

“He wanted to. You know him, he insists on giving things to people. He’s a good guy.”

Steve nods, sitting down and taking the box, lifting the lid. Steve furrows his eyebrows and pulls out the clothing from under the tissue paper. “Is this an apron?” Steve says, and Bucky snickers, nodding.

“You needed a more classy one, remember?”

“I remember,” Steve muses, a small smile on his lips, “but… ‘ _Kiss the chef_ ’? Not sure that one’s classy.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, snatching the apron from Steve to admire it himself. “If you don’t want it I’ll take it. Besides, you should learn to appreciate a gift.”

“I do,” Steve says, pointedly snatching it back and folding it neatly, setting it back in the box. “Tell him I said thanks.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Bucky says, and points to the box again. Steve frowns, lifting the apron to reach under it and –

“That’s another box,” Steve observes, and takes it out. “This is a new phone. I can’t take this.”

“Yes, you can. Tony loves giving big gifts, because he has a big heart,” Bucky says mechanically, undoubtedly reciting words from Tony which Bucky himself did not want to repeat. “I told him yours has a broken screen and he didn’t know what else to get. Besides, it’s like an iPhone but better. A Stark phone. Brand new line, same kind of software without crossing any legal boundaries, your own personal extension of JARVIS, and all of our numbers saved right there.”

“JARVIS?”

“Yeah, Tony’s AI. Riiiight, you haven’t met him. Well… I should probably fix that _before_ you use the phone, or you’ll shit your pants when you hear him talk to you.”

“Wh…”

Steve feels a little guilty taking the gift. Back in May on Tony’s birthday, Bucky dragged him along to the party, but he didn’t have a gift for the man of the hour. Not to mention, he didn’t bring anything for Clint on his, either. Granted, in both cases Bucky just sprung the mention of their birthdays on him half an hour before they left to join the celebrations and told Steve it was okay to come empty handed, but he felt bad every time it happened (not to mention, he had to jab Bucky whenever he said his gift was from him _and_ Steve, like they were some married couple and that was acceptable or something). He’ll keep his debt in mind and try to make up for it in the future.

Bucky bounces in his seat excitedly. “Anyway. Okay, time for mine.”

“Finally, I get the grace of your gifts,” Steve deadpans.

“Don’t be sassy, or you won’t get any,” Bucky snaps back.

Steve rolls his eyes, but sits patiently as Bucky reaches behind the chair to pick up a couple of packages. One’s flimsy and wrapped in paper, and the other’s in a box.

“Open ‘em.”

Wanting to save the bigger one for last (because Steve is a piece of shit, but he’s allowed to be because it’s his birthday) he opens the smaller one, only to come face to face with minions. On boxers. “I – I don’t want these near my junk,” Steve mutters in horror.

“Your _junk_?” Bucky repeats incredulously. Steve blushes. “Hey, look at it this way: these are your lucky boxers. Wear them on your next date and you’ll get laid _for sure_.”

Steve narrows his eyes at Bucky, tucking the horrifying garment back into its paper and setting it aside. At least he didn’t decline it, Bucky reasons.

“Next one,” Bucky insists.

“Alright, alright, have some patience,” Steve grumbles.

“You mean the patience that you didn’t have last night?”

Steve sighs laboriously, mimicking Bucky with whiny noises, stopping immediately when his eyes land on the contents of the box.

“Oh, Buck…”

Bucky smiles nervously. “I’ve seen you writing a lot. I know… I think I know, at least, a bit of what you want to do, and. And I want you to try.”

Steve nods, taking the typewriter out of the box and looking at it fondly. The aesthetic hipster in him has always wanted one of these, and he’s always justified it with the fact that he actually wants to be a writer, not just to be a falsely cultured individual with some vintage tech. It even has a USB port so that he can hook it up to his laptop. He feels a little giddy.

“This is…” Steve starts, taking in a deep breath, the air shuddering on his exhale. “Thank you.”

Bucky grins, reaching across the space between them to nudge Steve’s knee. “You’re welcome, buddy. You better make good use of it. And, uh. I guess now would be a good time.”

“For what?”

Bucky wets his lips and wrings his hands together. “To say I’m sorry.” Steve looks at him funny. “For the other night when we… I said some things about you having dead end jobs, and that your teaching…. But I didn’t mean a word of it, and I hope you know that. You didn’t let me say it the other night, but I want to say it now. You’re doing good, and you’re doing what you have to do. If that’s what you need to do, then there’s nothing wrong with it. I never should have said the things I said. I’m sorry, Steve.”

The whole time Bucky speaks, Steve’s frown deepens. When it’s clear he’s not going to say any more, Steve sighs and reaches forward to take Bucky’s hands in his own. “You didn’t have to – ”

“Yes, I did. I did have to say it, Steve, and I did, so just take it. You didn’t let me say it properly then, so let me say it now. Like you said, we both had our fair share of shitty things said, and I need to apologize properly, because I didn’t mean a word of that. You have to know that.” He looks so insistent and so sincere that Steve can’t refuse him a second time, so he shuts his eyes briefly, and when he opens them, the look in Bucky’s eyes makes him melt. Steve nods, and makes a little noise, making Bucky get up to sit next to him so they can hug.

“Thank you so much,” Steve mumbles into Bucky’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to do any of this, but you did. Thank you.”

Bucky laughs, squeezing his arms tight around Steve for a second before pulling back and saying breezily (though his heart is racing), “Wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t, huh? You’re welcome.”

Steve grins with the most magical gleam in his eyes, and really if that doesn’t make everything worth it, then Bucky’s not sure what they’re still doing living in the same place like this. All he knows right now is that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep Steve near, to take care of him, and to make sure he smiles like this as much as Bucky can get him to.

“What?” Steve says quietly. Bucky clears his throat and hops back to his own chair, leaning back and grabbing the bottle on his side of the table.

“Fireworks due to start in five.”

They both relax in their seats, gaze tilted towards the sky as they wait for the show. It’s not awkward by any means, the silence between them, but when Bucky begins repeating his last sentence to himself, it sure as hell feels it. It’s just in his own mind, but he does what he can to distract the unnerving feeling and digs out some burgers from the basket, giving one to Steve.

When the fireworks flare up in the night sky, Bucky hears Steve let out a short breath before melting into the seat a bit more.

The noise is plenty: the fizzle of the rocket as it launches into the air, followed by the resounding boom, and then the final satisfying crackle. The cycle repeats itself over and over, lighting up the night sky with a beautiful display, like millions of shooting stars dissipating before their eyes.

Between one pause, Bucky snorts and says, “I lost my arm on the 4th of July holding onto a firework.”

Steve, despite his short laugh, frowns. He’s quiet for a moment, and so is the sky as whoever’s running the show sets up the next launch. “When are you really going to tell me?” Steve asks quietly, sincerely. He looks at Bucky, trying to gauge his reaction.

Bucky shrugs, taking a quick swig of his drink and cringing as the alcohol slips down his throat. “I wish I knew.”

The next round starts up, and even as the fantastical colours and the demanding ruckus calls for Steve’s attention, he can’t tear his gaze off of Bucky. The colours of the fireworks are reflecting onto his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, a little bit of stubble growing out. Steve lets his mind slip, wondering why he would want to look at the fireworks when he can find the same thing in Bucky: the same brightness, vitality; awe-inspiring, stomach-dropping appreciation. Why would he ever look anywhere else?

“I went to the Grand Canyon once, you know?” Bucky says, still looking up at the sky. Steve, feeling oddly like he just got caught, follows his line of sight to see the stars bright and clear, even here so close to the city. The fog from the fireworks has cleared up, and Steve swallows to wet his throat. He didn’t even watch the rest of the show, didn’t even know how much time had passed because he was too busy looking at _Bucky_.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Bucky says, still looking upwards as he nods. “I didn’t get to hike down or stay as long as I wanted to. I was just a kid then, you know when my mom and dad were still alive. It was a family trip when Rebecca was little. One of the best memories I have to this day. Everything is so… The place stretches on for _miles_ and you just feel so small. So insignificant,” Bucky says with a light laugh.

_Never insignificant_ , Steve’s mind offers rather obnoxiously, _not you._

“So small. But you can’t help but to look out at the whole thing and wish you were down there, part of it all. Just to be lost down there, somewhere where no one could find you. Stay there forever just to be able to look up at the stars every night and get lost in that _feeling_. It’s not the same here, not one bit. You can’t see a thing. There? You see it all.”

He chuckles like he has some sort of inside joke. “I used to want to be a forest ranger back in those days. Thought that was what you did to really appreciate it all, the best way to take in the beauty and keep on that high where everything else just fell away. ‘Timeless wonder,’ my dad used to call it. ‘Puts everything in perspective.’”

Steve stays quiet for a while, letting Bucky’s words sink in. He’s got a sad smile on, and Steve wants to just…

“Sounds beautiful,” he offers.

Bucky makes a noise of approval in the back of his throat. “It was. Bet it still is. I just wish I could go again.”

He’s not sure what makes him do it, but Steve asks out of the blue, “What do you want from life?”

Bucky turns his head to give Steve a funny look, a hint of hopefulness sneaking in before he turns away. “If I could, I’d go lie there and look up at the stars every night. Maybe bring a friend or two. But if I gotta earn a living… Finish my degree. Try and… open a shop, I guess. Thought about a bookstore a lot, you know that. It’s not gonna be easy, and I… if I’m honest, I second guess myself every time I remember that that’s what I’m headed for. But,” he says, grunting as he turns onto his side in the lounging chair, pillowing his hands under his head. “I want to know about _you_. What’s your real passion, Stevie? You don’t talk to me about that stuff, and while you make a very good stripper, I’m not so sure it’ll take you to retirement.”

“Hey, I just have to get a few hot tattoos and no one will know the difference. Keep in shape and all. I’ll still be hot even when I’m seventy, don’t doubt me.” He rolls his eyes at Bucky and does the same, turning to face Bucky with his full attention. He shrugs and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I really want to open a yarn store for scarves and knitted hats, y’know?”

Bucky narrows his eyes and throws a dirty, balled up tissue directly between Steve’s eyebrows. “Asshole.” Steve chuckles, feeling warm from more than just the humid air. “We could be a joint business, right? Stick together.”

Steve hums, breaking the eye contact for a split second.

“So,” Bucky insists, his voice considerably gentler. “What do you _really_ want to do?”

Steve chews on his lip. It’s stupid. It’s all stupid, and he thinks about the amount of struggling authors, about the enormous likeliness that he’ll just flunk.

“I… You got me a _typewriter_ , Buck. I think you know.”

Bucky shrugs with one shoulder. “I still want to hear what you have to say about it.”

Steve gives Bucky a warning look, looking tired as he scrubs his hands over his face to try and find the words. “I want to write. It’s… It’s a hobby more than anything, but I couldn’t really… I lack requirements for any good supplementary side job, because I couldn’t afford to go to school back when it mattered, so I can’t teach English.”

“Sure you can,” Bucky says.

Steve makes a strangled noised. “Go back to school at this age?”

“I’m doing it, why can’t you?”

“Because, Bucky, you graduate next year. If I begin next year, it’ll take me four years and money I don’t have to be able to do anything. So… I talked with Sam a while ago, and I’ve been trying harder. I just… won’t get that far, is all.”

Bucky hums, waiting a beat before mumbling, “I doubt that.”

Not knowing how to respond, Steve follows Bucky’s lead and gets up, wordlessly helps him tidy and pack up despite Bucky’s protests. By the time they’re ready to head back down, the clock hits eleven, and both of them are too exhausted from sheer honesty that they head to bed without saying anything more.

“Buck?” Steve says, hovering in his own door before he shuts it, and before Bucky does the same. “Thanks.”

Bucky gives him a light-hearted salute and smiles tiredly, and for a moment Steve forgets how to breathe.

“G’night, Cap.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at our boys interacting! Talking! Being mushy! Steve being blatantly in love with Bucky! 
> 
> Up next: Possibly the crackiest, most unserious chapter I have.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for this being late unless you're extremely generous with procrastination and sheer laziness. Sorry and thank you for waiting I love y'all. -G
> 
> Warnings at the end

“IT’S GONNA BE OKAY, BUCK! THE BABY’S GONNA BE FINE!” Steve yells, propping Bucky up in his arms as Bucky huffs and wheezes.

“I CAN’T DO IT, IT HURTS!”

“JUST BREATHE! YOU GOT THIS, BABE, IN AND OUT, COME ON! I’M RIGHT HERE WITH YOU!”

Bucky grunts, then lets out an exaggerated scream, his breathing quick and heavy, making him lightheaded.

“Hey, you!” Steve yells to the guy standing at the door with their pizza in hand. “Give me that dish towel, quick!”

With no understanding of _what the hell is going on_ and no other option, the guy puts the pizzas on a side table and rushes to get the item requested, tossing it at Steve with an expression on his face that Steve can only imagine means he’s going to be scarred for the rest of his life.

A few screams and encouraging words later, Bucky pops out a healthy baby bouncy ball (which Steve picked up from the dollar store _particularly_ for this occasion). Steve keeps brushing his hands across Bucky’s face, moving stray strands of his still-long hair out of his eyes. “You did it, baby, we did it.”

Bucky brings the baby ball up for both of them to see, tears welling up in his eyes. “He’s beautiful.”

Steve grins and kisses the top of Bucky’s head, wrapping his arms around his friend tightly.

“I… I’m not qualified for child delivery. Does this mean I get a tip?”

Bucky looks over to the delivery boy, trying to hold his act for a second longer, but he gives in and drops the ball aside, Steve scrambling to pick it up while scolding Bucky for dropping their poor baby. Bucky stands up and cracks his back, then nods and walks the delivery boy back to their door.

“Thanks for entertaining our shitty sense of humour,” Bucky says as he hands over the cash.

“Thanks for the show,” the delivery boy says back, and Bucky can _swear_ there’s a flirtatious lilt to his voice, or at least something in his smile…

He shrugs it off and watches the guy walk away, taking a second to appreciate the view before turning back into the apartment. He checks the receipt once before heading to toss it into the bin, then spots something scrawled across the bottom.

_Nice acting skills. Call me and I can hook you up with an agent._

There’s a phone number beneath the note, and Bucky swallows his grin.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, once he’s finally done grieving after the loss of their newborn.

“Nothing,” Bucky replies in a singsong voice, tucking the receipt into his back pocket. At least someone’s ready to appreciate his weird side. Before Steve can ambush him, he frowns and says, “You know, as good as our acting was, it was obvious we were faking it.”

“What, because an mpreg isn’t biologically possible?”

“No,” Bucky scoffs, plating a few slices of pizza and passing them to Steve. “ _Because_ it makes me the bottom. Anyone that looks at me knows I’m not a bottom at all, okay? Total giveaway.”

“Of course.”

Bucky hums approvingly. “And don’t you forget it.”

***

“Alright, alright so you can lift. It’s my turn; you spot me. I’ll show you how it’s done,” Bucky orders, tapping his foot impatiently against the mat as Steve gets out from under the bar.

“We’re not competing, Buck. You better be responsible, because I’m not putting up with you moaning all week if you try to lift too much.”

Bucky huffs, settling himself onto the bench and waiting for Steve to take off the extra weights. “Please, you couldn’t handle a minute of me moaning.”

Steve, not taking the double entendre – because he knows better, and he knows it’s mostly just Bucky’s nature despite having said he wants less of it – rolls his eyes and replies, “All the more reason for you to work your way up and not to try lift some stupid amount right off the bat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky mutters, wrapping his hands around the bar. He’ll listen to Steve, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to show Steve up. Steve impressed Bucky, but that’s not hard to do, and definitely not unexpected with Steve’s arms. Now he’s got to show what he’s made of (literally).

They go for a bit, Bucky taking a few reps before peer pressuring Steve into putting more on. The more he takes, the more concerned Steve looks.

“How are you…” Steve asks when they near what Steve was lifting earlier. Bucky’s hardly breaking a sweat (and Steve is jealous, because he looks damn radiant and almost _predatory_ with his challenging, proud smirk).

Instead of replying, Bucky settles the bar back down and lifts his left arm up into the air, flipping on the vibrate function to emphasize his point. Steve swallows.

“This baby can lift about twice as much as I could than if I had a real arm. Too bad I still have my right arm, or I could impress the shit out of all the hot guys here, like that one ov-” Bucky cuts off, having gestured to a ridiculously built blond who’s destroying their puny records, deadlifting probably quadruple what Bucky can. “Holy shit, that’s hot,” Bucky says under his breath, then snaps out of it and glares at Steve. “Up it.”

“What?” Steve says, reluctantly tearing away his own gaze.

“Gimme more weight, Rogers.”

Steve looks hesitant, but eventually complies in favour of being consumed by Bucky’s death glare.

Bucky keeps going, taking a few more reps before telling Steve to add more time and time again, wanting both to impress and outdo the guy that’s humming happily as he adds another 50lbs.

“Buddy,” Steve says warily, “you should slow down…”

“My arm can take it,” Bucky insists, his breathing heavy. “My arms. My real one’s pretty solid too, I can’t deny that.”

“Buck,” Steve says more insistently. “I can’t spot you safely anymore.”

On his next lift, Bucky makes the fatal mistake of letting his gaze stray right when Steve clenches his jaw, running a hand through his damp hair. Hell if that doesn’t make Bucky go weak in the knees. Unfortunately, it also makes him weak in the right elbow.

“Oof!”

“Buck!” Steve shouts, eyes flitting with panic.

“Here, my friend!” the Hot Guy says, who somehow made his way over to rescue a humiliated Bucky in a split second. He lifts the bar single-handedly (without any effort, which only dents Bucky’s ego that much more) and puts it back on the rack, waiting for Bucky to slide out from underneath to clasp his hand and bring him up to a sitting position. “Valiant soldier like you must have lost your train of thought. I am Thor, what is your name?”

Bucky, stuttering and at a loss for words as his cheeks heat up, can’t find it in him to reply. He can’t remember his own name.

“His name is James, but he likes to tell people to call him Bucky,” Steve supplies, and Thor grins, turning to Steve and shaking his hand firmly enough that Bucky catches a grimace. “I’m Steve.”

Steve glances at Bucky, and when he notices that his friend is red in the face, Steve can barely keep himself from bursting into laughter.

“Well it is great to meet you both. Are you okay, James?”

Bucky shoots Steve a sharp glare before turning back to Thor. He rubs his chest a bit where the bar landed, trying to get his body to cooperate when he says, “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for your help. Maybe if _Steve_ was a better spotter I’d be better right now.”

Thor gives a hearty laugh, clapping Steve on the shoulder and muttering, “You’ve got yourself a feisty one, my friend.” Steve flushes, mumbling something that Bucky doesn’t hear over his own pained grumbling.

Despite Bucky insisting he is okay, Thor sticks around to talk to them some more about proper technique (which Bucky and Steve both know, thank you very much, but the guy is being too nice for Bucky to want to snap at him. Besides, he kinda saved his life, so it’s the least he could do to listen). Steve grins triumphantly when Thor forbids Bucky from doing anything more, but then frowns when he asserts just as solidly that Steve shouldn’t do anymore either, “Because James here seems to be the competitive type. Best for both of you that you call it a day. I should be going back or my girlfriend Jane will bite my head off for neglecting her in favour of the metal over there.”

Because Bucky has no filter, is injured (and no it is not a concussion, but he doesn’t think well), and is just plain unabashed, he blurts out, “Of course you have a girlfriend, you’re fucking built.”

This time, Steve can’t help but laugh. “What, you really think you’d be able to get in on that after your little stunt?” Steve teases, causing Bucky to bite the air in Steve’s direction, attempting to be threatening but looking more like a tired puppy.

“I appreciate your kind words,” Thor says, “and I would not be so haste to judge my own thoughts on this man if I were you, Steve. James is quite the catch.” _What?_ Bucky blushes furiously, suddenly desperate to leave the gym. Since when did he start blushing as badly as Steve?

Steve snorts, nudging Bucky’s shoulder. “Y’hear that? You’re quite the catch.”

“Yeah, too bad no one’s tied me down,” Bucky mumbles, running a hand through his hair and standing up, grabbing a towel from his bag and avoiding further conversation for sake of his own dignity.

A few minutes later Steve comes over, resting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Got his number.”

“He has a girlfriend, Steve.”

“So? Doesn’t mean we have to turn down a new friend. Also, doesn’t mean we can’t still _appreciate_ him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, too tired to drag himself to the changing rooms, so he strips off his shirt and changes into a clean one on the spot. “I need food,” is all he says, and Steve laughs warmly, like he knew that was coming.

“Want me to ride back?” Steve asks.

“Yeah right, as if I’d let you drive my bike if my life depended on it. You don’t get to touch my baby unless I say so.”

***

**Bucky Buck McBuckins:**

**Steve Rogers:** _Why am I friends with you again?_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _i have no clue. answer that urself. in the meantime, i have gotten 5 back so far._

 **Steve Rogers:** _What? How?_

 **Steve Rogers:** _Where did you even get that from in the first place?_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _… i just got one from sam but i didnt send one to him… steve… how did he get that…_

 **Steve Rogers:** _… He’s a memer like you. He has other friends that probably sent him that._

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _stevie, lying is bad for u. when i get home from work ur nose is going to be so long that… damnit i was supposed to have an end to that sentence_

 **Steve Rogers:** _So long that I could pleasure a lady?_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _ew no dont say it like that its gross. and… no i wasnt even thinking down that lane. get ur head out of the gutter._

 **Steve Rogers:** _Says the man who sent me a daddy text_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _differences: irony and memes._

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _u never admitted that u forwarded that to sam_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _how many did u get back_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _steve?_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _stevie?_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _STTTTEEEEEEVE?_

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _i see thru ur lies. i know the truth._

 **Bucky Buck McBuckins:** _asshole._

***

When Bucky gets home, he stops dead in his tracks. Is that… _country music?_ Bucky makes a disgusted face and tiptoes his way through the apartment, getting his phone ready to record whatever it is going on in Steve’s room.

He slowly pushes the door open and gets to see Steve sat on his bed with his laptop hooked up to his typewriter, staring at the screen with spite, his eyebrows drawn in in that way that happens when he’s super concentrated, the look that makes Bucky have to try that much harder to not go right over and kiss him.

Under his breath, Steve is singing along subconsciously to the lyrics of whatever blasphemy is playing through the speakers.

“Afternoon, tractor fucker!” Bucky calls, and Steve snaps his head up, his horrified expression doubling when he realizes Bucky’s got his camera out. Steve launches himself off the bed, trying to grab Bucky’s phone, but Bucky is quick to dash to his own room, holding the door shut with his left arm so Steve can’t force it open.

“Delete that!”

“Tractor fuckeeeer!” Bucky sings emphatically. “This is my apartment and if you want to taint it with that kind of absurdity then you must live with the consequences!”

“Big words for someone who’s gonna get fucked up if that video is sent to anyone!”

Bucky grins, rattling only slightly as his left arm takes the brunt of Steve trying to shove the door open from the other side. He fakes a yawn and opens the video in his gallery, hitting the share option.

 **Bucky Barnes:** _video attachment.mp4_

 **Bird man clint:** _holy shit he’s going to kill you_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _:-)_

***

By the time dinner rolls around, Steve’s finally accepted the fact that their friends think he’s a tractor-fucking joke (you know, after he managed to get in a round of merciless tickling and a few dead legs when Bucky least expected them). They settle for some home renovation channel, because there’s nothing better on the cable the building provides, and they’ve exhausted most of their Netflix options.

“Look at how he’s grouting the tiles,” Bucky complains, then gracefully shoves a forkful of noodle into his mouth. “That’s so messy, it ain’t neat at all they’re just spreading it all over the tiles and ruining the pretty things! What’s the fuckin’ point!”

Steve sighs like he has to explain something to a petulant young child. “That’s how it’s supposed to go, Buck, you gotta make sure you fill it all up.”

Bucky snorts and says, “Oh yeah, you gotta fill it real good, huh? Can you fill it real good, Stevie?”

Steve groans, waiting for Bucky to finish chewing before considerately shoving him off the couch. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“And I want ice cream.”

“You’ve barely finished your dinner,” Steve points out, but Bucky just shrugs. He pulls himself back up and picks up his carton again.

“Maybe if you didn’t throw me onto the floor I’d be able to finish.”

After a little more whining on both their parts, both of them get engrossed in the final leg of the show with the Big Reveal, and _just_ as they’re about to show the house, it cuts to break.

“FUCKERS!” Bucky yells, and Steve looks scandalized by his outburst. “I’m getting that ice cream.”

“Get me one too,” Steve says, leaning backwards to look at Bucky as he heads into the kitchen, just in time to see Bucky flip him off.

“In your dreams, Rogers. Get off your lazy ass and get one yourself.”

Regardless, Bucky comes back with two popsicles in hand.

“Rocket pops?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. He takes the peace offering and unwraps it, and Bucky suddenly realizes this was a _very_ bad idea.

Steve’s attention is back on the show the second the break ends, but Bucky is finding it impossible to look away from the way Steve’s lips stretch around the ice. He does this thing where he flicks his tongue out to catch a few stray drops of the melting popsicle before they can reach his hand, and Bucky’s stomach drops. Oh shit. Oh god, he knows what that _feels_ like.

Bucky crosses his legs about as subtly as he can, watching Steve from the corner of his eye. Bucky wonders if Steve is even aware that he is practically deep throating the thing, then makes a helpless whimper at the thought that Steve might know _exactly_ what he’s doing.

Unfortunately for Bucky, Steve hears him, but thankfully doesn’t notice the crisis his friend is having. Instead, Steve pulls the treat from his lips, overlooking Bucky’s own popsicle melting all over his hand, and says, “You know at one place in D.C. my stage name was Rocket Cock.”

Bucky just about chokes, jumping up to drop off the abandoned treat in the sink before he comes back over to smother Steve’s mouth with a pillow, failing miserably. He accepts his fate and does the only thing he can, trotting off into his room and hoping that Steve didn’t notice anything below the waist.

Fuck.

***

 **Bucky Barnes:** _i just asked siri ‘please sort out my life’ and she heard ‘siri please suck my love.’ i think siri wants some attention._

 **Rocket Cock:** _You’re shitting me, right?_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _Screen Shot at 10:16pm.jpeg_

 **Rocket Cock:** _This is worse than my Minions thing._

 **Bucky Barnes:** _AHA YOU ADMIT IT_

 **Rocket Cock:** _Go to sleep_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _it’s early_

 **Rocket Cock:** _It doesn’t matter. You clearly need sleep._

 **Bucky Barnes:** _party pooper_

 **Rocket Cock:** _Goodnight, Buck._

***

Bucky rings the bell, rocking nervously on his feet. Natasha sent Bucky a picture of this dude, so for once he’s not going in blind (though he wonders if that defeats the purpose, or maybe it _is_ how it’s meant to be done and he’s been going at it all wrong). He knows this guy is pretty hot, but that’s about it. Sharp facial features with a jawline to challenge Bucky’s, hazel eyes that Bucky’s sure he could get lost in, and a promising, secretive smile.

When the door opens, Bucky holds his breath, trying to get his heart to stop hammering. He’s not normally nervous; he can pull up the charm when it’s called for. It’s not like he’s nervous of not knowing what to expect; that bit’s always a risk with the whole deal.

The guy, Brock if Bucky remembers correctly, grins when he sees Bucky. Without a single word, Brock drags him inside by the collar of his jacket, shuts the door behind them, and presses Bucky to a wall, crushing their lips together in a heated kiss. Bucky lets out a surprised yelp, but Brock brings a hand into his hair and tugs a little, getting Bucky to part his lips with a sigh.

It goes on for a while, unexpected but hot, and then Brock starts crowding in even more, closing every gap between them until his hips are pressed against Bucky’s. Brock slips a leg between Bucky’s, and that’s when it clicks.

In spite of his own eagerness, and the fact that he’s not gotten laid in a while, Bucky presses his palms against Brock’s chest and pushes him back. “Aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” he asks, in a way that he hopes is coy, but still transparent enough that the guy will back off.

“Thought we could skip right to the good stuff,” Brock mutters, voice rough. _Good stuff? Right, because that… that’s all these dates are for anyway, not because I want to actually find someone who might like me, God forbid_.

Brock leans in again, grunting angrily when he gets pushed back again, this time a little more sternly to put a few feet between them. “Yeah, well that’s not what I came here for.”

“And just what were you expecting, doll?”

Bucky scowls, realizing that, no matter how much sweet talk he gives, this guy just won’t get it. He knows the type of guy Brock is, and Bucky has no intention of dealing with that.

He turns and reaches for the door, only for his sensors to alert him of Brock’s grip on his left wrist. Bucky shakes his head, a slow smile forming on his lips. He pictures it: twisting around and yanking his arm out of Brock’s hand, making Brock regret ever having laid a hand on him, but something stops him.

Brock might be that kind of person, but Bucky isn’t. He opens the door and simply works his way out of Brock’s grip, and if he pulled a little too hard, who can blame him?

He goes back to his own place feeling grumpy, angry, and a little sexually frustrated if only for his own lack of activity in recent weeks. Chalk it up to Steve to make him feel better, the smell of fresh stir-fry and homemade fries wafting around the apartment. Bucky moans as soon as he walks in the door, too grateful to stop himself from walking up behind Steve and giving him a quick hug.

“Thank you.”

“Not a good date?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head into Steve’s shoulder, mumbling, “Don’t wanna talk about it,” before letting go. “Unhealthy food. Exactly what I need.”

“This is not unhealthy!” Steve protests, but even he looks a little guilty when he says that.

“Whatever you say, Pinocchio.”

Steve scrunches his noise, turning back to the cooker to keep a watch on the food.

Bucky trudges to his bedroom and falls backwards onto the bed, sighing deeply. This pattern’s getting tedious. Regardless of the bad dates, Bucky knows he goes into each one with his subconscious on the ready to compare the person to Steve, and that’s just not fair on anyone, _especially_ Bucky. How’s he supposed to move forward when the guy lives with him, when everything he does is pretty much perfect?

Maybe Bucky should ask Natasha to set him up with Steve for his next blind date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: slight non consensual aggressive debacle that ends with one of them walking out without anything explicit having occurred. 
> 
> I feel like it's worth mentioning AO3 didn't let me post the full chapter with that daddy text in text format so I had to put it as an image. Cheers.
> 
> Up next: Tony sets Bucky straight (or bi, I guess)


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelin all sorts of odd. Hope y'all are doing well. Creds for the opening scene go to Paige fallouchboy :*

Steve falls back dramatically onto Bucky’s bed, right while Bucky’s sorting through his notes and trying to figure out how to apply stuff he’s learnt in class to kick start a real business. He raises an eyebrow and peers over the top of his laptop, pulling out a headphone. “Can I help you…?” Steve sighs deeply, not saying a word. “You’re in my private quarters, dude. Let me _relax_.”

Steve turns his head to one side, giving Bucky a look, indicating that anything about to come out of his mouth isn’t in the least bit serious. “But Buck, isn’t this what you wanted? Me in bed with you?”

Bucky huffs, rolling his eyes. He puts his laptop aside and shoves at Steve. “Oh come on, fuck _off_!” Steve chuckles, yelping when Bucky succeeds in pushing him off the bed.

Steve pops his head up so Bucky can see his eyes over the edge of his mattress, looking sheepish. “I – I’m sorry, I just forgot for a second.”

Bucky frowns, and Steve gets up, halfway to the door.

“Hey,” Bucky says, heart pattering when Steve turns around with a quizzical look. “It’s okay. If I’m honest… I kind of missed it. It’s weird not having that between is; it’s just who we are.”

Steve chews on his lip, contemplating his options before sitting back on the edge of the bed, closer to Bucky. “What’re you working on?”

Bucky shrugs, bringing his laptop between them and avoiding Steve’s gaze. “Making a list of shit I need to get prepared before I open a shop, trying to figure out if I’ll actually be able to afford it.”

Steve hums. “You’ll figure it out,” he says simply, and the amount of sincerity in his voice prompts Bucky to look up. Steve’s eyes are fierce, trying to convey his belief in Bucky, but when they make contact with Bucky’s, they go soft. Bucky gets drawn in, and just like that everything he’s tried to build up against Steve falls to bits.

It’s not easy on Steve’s end, either. He can feel the craving in him to close the gap between them, to be close, to feel the press of –

“Hey! Rude!” Steve pouts, taking the pillow from Bucky that he just got hit around the head with and whacking Bucky back one. The words _I was trying to make a move, couldn’t you tell?_ die on his lips, because as much as he’d love to tease to break the fact that that just happened, Steve is overwhelmed with the realization of just how much he actually…

Fuck.

It would be so easy to just push Bucky’s things aside, to lay beside him and get back that warmth from the night they spent together when Cassie came over. It would be so easy to get lost in that comfort, but Steve shakes himself out of it. Too much.

He has to go.

“Hey, where are you going? What did you want, anyway?”

Steve slaps on a lopsided grin, giving an emphatic reply of, “ _You_ ,” throwing his hand over his heart. Bucky rolls his eyes, just like Steve knew he would. “Nah,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I just needed cheering up a bit.”

“Well hey, you can come in and chill or something. How can I help?”

Steve smiles warmly, his eyes fixed on the ground so that Bucky can’t see the ache that’s written so plainly on his face. “You already did.”

Steve feels like a turd when he leaves, like a sappy, stupid turd. He should call Sam.

***

“Tony?” Bucky asks the second he hears the phone being picked up, anxiously crushing a stress ball in his metal fist.

“Buckster! What’s up? I’m assuming it’s important since you never usually call, especially when I have to leave for a business trip in the next three hours.”

“Oh. Never mind.”

Bucky hears a rush of air: Tony sighing. “Buck, you know I’ve got your back. What’s it about?”

Bucky hesitates, looking around the empty space of the apartment like someone’s going to hear, even though Steve went out for a night of bowling with his co-workers that Bucky politely declined (because all the others were taking their _partners,_ not their _friends_ ). “It’s about Steve.”

“Shit,” Tony mutters. “This is gonna be… You can rush your ass over and spew it all out, but I don’t think that’s gonna be very good for either of us. I can’t do this over the phone, Buck. Do you have work for the next few days?”

Bucky pulls his phone away to check his calendar, groaning. “Yeah.”

“Can you call in sick?”

“Wh… I really shouldn’t…”

“Buck, you hardly ever call in sick, they won’t be bothered if you take the weekend.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“You’re coming with me on my business trip. I’ll have enough time between the important stuff for us to talk.”

“Tony…”

“Just do it, or I will. And do it soon, I’m sending someone to pick you up right now. Oh yeah, pack some clothes, too.”

Bucky groans loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, now I have to go before Pepper bites my head off for neglecting her for more than fiv- _ow!_ Yeah, that was her. She says hi.” Bucky hears some bickering, right before Tony squeaks out a sharp, “ _Bye!_ ”

Three hours later, him and Tony are settled quite nicely in the private Stark jet.

“Want me to crack out the booze?” Tony asks with a playful lilt, knowing Bucky will turn it down. He prefers to open up sober if he’s going to do it. It doesn’t hurt to offer.

“I’ll pass this time,” Bucky mutters. “Maybe on the trip back. Where are we going, anyway?”

Stark lifts his eyebrows, putting down his mug of coffee in a cup holder. “You just hop on a plane with me without knowing or… _looking_?”

Bucky shrugs. “Trust you. If you take me to some weird place and keep me there for a year, I know you’ll at least keep me fed.”

“Did you tell Steve you left?”

At the mention of his name, Bucky scrunches his nose. “Yeah, I shot him a text. He didn’t reply yet, though.”

Tony nods, then relaxes back into the seat, letting his eyes fall shut, even though he has no intention of sleeping. “We’re going to Jasper.”

“Jasper?”

“Uhuh, in Alberta.”

“Wh… Where’s Alberta?”

Tony opens an eye. “I swear to God, Barnes, if you ask me where Canada is I will get JARVIS to put your arm out of use for a solid day.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Neither of you can do that without opening it up, and you know it. The chances of you getting close enough to my arm to do that without me putting _you_ out for the rest of the trip is zero to none.” Tony huffs, closing his eyes again and visibly trying to relax the tension in his face. Before he can get too comfortable, Bucky asks, “So where _is_ Canada?”

Bucky thinks he needs to teach Tony that throwing an empty mug at him is not the way to show how much he cherishes their friendship.

***

They only stay for two nights, because Tony has a meeting the following Monday back at the industry headquarters, but it’s enough for Bucky to explore given that Tony is completely tied up all of Saturday in business matters.

On the last night, they’re flat on their backs on the single beds, Tony talking to Pepper in a warm, playful voice that anyone else but Bucky might mistake for condescending. In some ways, that’s Tony in a nutshell, but to the people he cares about he might as well be a tiny puppy biting people’s ankles, trying to come across as fierce when he’s really not _that_ bad, not intentionally.

“Yeah, Bucky’s fine, we’re fine,” replies Tony, his tone indicating that the conversation is winding down to an end. “Mm. Take care.” Pause. Half smile. “Yeah, I’ll see you when we get back tomorrow. You too.”

Bucky stares at the ceiling while Tony sits up, tapping away at his phone to access some details regarding the deal he’s trying to settle that Pepper sent his way.

“You’re really lucky,” Bucky whispers.

Tony’s thumbs halt mid-type, and he looks over his shoulder at his friend. “You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I do. You’d be blind not to, and she probably wouldn’t be with you if that were the case anyhow. It’s just… nice to see you happy.”

“Thanks.”

Tony hesitates, but he quickly returns to his business, leaving Bucky to figure out the recurring pattern in the paint-splattered ceiling, if there is any. He’s sure there is; in spite of how many infinite possibilities there are in life, there’s only so much that can exist, ultimately making the universe finite. Maybe numbers are the one of the only exceptions, but Bucky’s never liked math _that_ much to care for that.

Even in those movies – or hell, even dreams, nightmares – where people visit alternate timelines, there’s always _some_ point of unity between all of the universes, some resolute event that comes about, whether or not the outcome is the same. With respect to that, he doesn’t think there’s much to the whole ‘no two snowflakes are alike’ thing, or even ‘lightning never strikes twice in the same place.’

Finite possibilities, even in the largest of magnitudes.

“Speaking of our respective happiness’s,” Tony says, sighing laboriously as he gets up and plops himself onto the edge of Bucky’s bed, pulling Bucky into a sitting position despite his protests. “You didn’t come here for nothing, Barnes. You wanted to talk about Steve.”

Bucky groans, dragging his hands down his face. “I did. But… would it be too late to take a raincheck? It’s so tranquil here and I don’t want to ruin that, you know? That… that stuff is stressful.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I know.”

The room goes silent long enough for Bucky to think about his little adventure today, taking Tony’s rental car around the national park to take in the vast expanse of mountains. It’s different from any place he’s been before; not quite as muted and green as the Adirondacks – the peaks are way too high and bare for that. Maybe something of an inverted Grand Canyon. It’s a nice thought. Makes him wonder what it’d look like if he ever got to go down there; if the towering walls of rock would look anything like this, except more saturated with rich, warm colours.

“It _is_ beautiful here,” Tony says quietly. “People think the head of Stark Tech can’t appreciate nature.”

Bucky laughs half-heartedly. “Yeah, and those people don’t know you.”

“Yeah, exactly.” There’s another moment, in which time Bucky has enough time to recall the unparalleled bright blue of the glacier water. Unparalleled, he thinks, if not for a certain pair of eyes. He couldn’t help but think of Steve every time he pulled over at a lake and saw the same colour, or how much Steve might enjoy being here. “Alright, I’ve got an idea.”

“This can’t be good.”

“Don’t break my heart, Buck, just hear me out. If you talk to me about Steve and everything else, I’ll take you to this really great place for stargazing tonight. There’s only a bit of light pollution here in the town, but you still can’t see as much as you do out there. So what do you say, deal? If not, I’m keeping you locked in here for the whole night and you won’t _ever_ get to see this again.”

Bucky gives him a defiant look, like he’ll either find a way out of the room if he needs, or like it won’t be the last time he comes here if it’s the death of him. Tony knows he loves places like this.

“I heard there’s an aurora alert tonight,” Tony says enticingly, knowing _exactly_ what he’s doing. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on that when you can’t get that kind of a view in New York, am I right?”

Bucky glares at Tony. “I hate you.”

Tony grins, extending his hand for Bucky to grudgingly shake. “Knew I could bank on you being a nerd.”

Just because the grip on Bucky’s right hand doesn’t rival his left, doesn’t mean tightening his grip on Tony’s hand with an innocent smile won’t hurt.

“Alright, asshole, so what’s so important that it couldn’t wait?”

“You’re the one that decided it couldn’t wait,” Bucky mumbles.

“Stop deflecting, it won’t work on me. What great revelation have you come to now?”

Bucky frowns. He almost wants to say it.

“Come on, Barnes, I know you almost as well as I know myself.”

The words are stuck in his throat, sitting there with the same weight that reminds him of the sensation of throwing up.

“Oh man,” Tony exhales. “That bad, huh?”

“What?” Bucky manages to say.

“You’ve got feelings for him.”

Bucky flinches at the accusation, scowl immediately etching itself onto his face. “No I don’t.”

“Buck, I told yo-”

“I _don’t_. I don’t fucking feel anything for him, he’s just my _friend_ , okay?”

“Yeah, right, because friends look at each other the way you to do.”

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, Stark, you’ve hardly seen us together.”

“Well if I’ve figured your guys’ dynamic out in just a couple meetings, then it must be glaringly obvious. Forgive me for noticing.”

“You don’t know anything; no one knows _anything_!”

Bucky’s voice rings through the air in the room. He didn’t know he was yelling. Having a real conversation with Tony never is the easiest when he snaps back with his know-it-all attitude, but boy, what a time to forget that.

Bucky takes a few moments to breathe, each one shaky on the exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Buck,” Tony says softly, eyebrows drawn in. “I might not know anything about him, or even about the two of you, but one thing I know for sure is you. Maybe more than you think I know, and maybe less than you let on, but I know you. I know these _things_ you do, not giving yourself what you deserve because you think you haven’t earned it, or whatever that is.

“This… This is different. Buck, you’re letting this guy live in your apartment. If you have feelings for him, no one’s going to blame you, but sooner or later everything’s going to fall to shit if you don’t figure it one way or another. The way I see it, you either get rid of him for your own good, or you come clean.”

Bucky swallows, his frown deepening. “But… he doesn’t want…”

“What, he’s straight? He doesn’t like you ‘in that way?’”

Scrunching his nose, Bucky shrugs. He still hasn’t forgotten the first forsaken conversation they had regarding this, where Steve said he liked Bucky, where he was worried he might have read the situation wrong. But maybe things have changed since then. Maybe Steve doesn’t feel the same way anymore. Can he rationalize their interactions – the lingering brush of skin on skin, the stolen looks, and the almost awkward silences after they make each other laugh – under the premise that Steve has stepped back and sees him as just a friend?

“No… I don’t think it’s that. Maybe. He’s got more… personal reasons.”

Tony rolls his eyes, as if he’s listening to a teenager about some doomed-to-fail two-minute high school relationship. “That he’s a stripper? I’m pretty sure you can get over that.”

“He had someone he loved, and she moved. Even invited him, but he locked himself down. Thinks that his dream job isn’t enough to commit to someone, that he can’t give enough.”

“If someone loves someone else enough, that’s never an issue,” Tony muses. Bucky gives a non-committal shrug, and Tony freezes, jaw dropped. “W… Buck… Buck, do you…”

The question hangs in the air, as incomplete as Bucky’s intention to answer it. Tony doesn’t push it because he saw how Bucky snapped before, and to finish this line of questioning could end even worse.

Bucky inhales deeply, bringing his shoulders to his ears and holding them there until he lets out a gush of air, his whole body going lax. “I love him, Tony.” He swallows thickly, trying to push for a smile, only to have his face contort as he tries to stop himself from crying. This feels stupid. He feels helpless and stupid.

Tony doesn’t do anything for a moment, but then he wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulder and pulls him in close. “Well,” he replies in a light tone, “then get your head out of your ass and do something about it. He might have his excuses, but someone’s going to snap him up. And even if they don’t, you can’t let him hold you down if he won’t let this happen. You should tell him.”

Bucky laughs hollowly. “God, Tony Stark giving advice on peoples’ love lives.”

Tony makes a disgusted face, pushing Bucky away from him jokingly. “Ugh, yeah. No, I have little to no experience whatsoever. How Pepper deals with me, I have no idea. Don’t take my advice, ever. Except… Maybe just this once.” Tony shakes himself. “Feelings are gross.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Bucky mutters grimly.

“Hey,” Tony cuts in, pinching Bucky’s cheek. “None of that. I promised that scary redhead of yours I’d take care of you.”

“And Clint.”

“He’s not scary; I could take him.”

“That’s what you think. He’s got surprisingly good aim.”

“Pff, who needs aim when you have repulsors?”

Bucky gives Tony a sidelong glance. “Whatever you say, just make sure to invite me when you try to take him on. It’d be a fun match. Video would go viral overnight.” Bucky clears his throat, sorting his face into something this side of serious before putting on his best reporter voice: “Breaking news: Stark Tech Owner Tony Stark gets Obliterated by Bird Boy.”

“You saying I wouldn’t be able to beat that punk ass? You’re not supposed to pick favourites out of your friends, you know. But just remember I’m the one that gave you that arm.”

“Not pickin’ favourites, just making sure you don’t underestimate him. I pick good friends.”

“Good,” Tony says, gesturing to the empty space in reference to Clint, “and the _best_ ,” he finishes, putting his hand proudly on his own chest, arc reactor glowing proudly beneath his fingertips.

At this moment in time, Bucky’s not so inclined to disagree.

***

**Stevie:** _Holy shit is that the northern lights??_

**Bucky Barnes:** _yep. hold on i’ll send some of the milky way_

**Stevie:** _You’re kidding me. Fuck, I wish I was there._

**Bucky Barnes:** _i'll bring u nxt time._

Bucky opens the photo attachment Steve sends in reply to the glorious ones he’s sending to Steve, only to smile by instinct when he sees Steve’s sleepy pout taking up his phone screen. His chest tightens, and honestly, there’s no fucking denying it.

**Bucky Barnes:** _cute._

(Because why not? If he’s going to throw it all away, he might as well start early.)

**Bucky Barnes:** _shit man why r u up its four am there_

**Stevie:** _Couldn’t sleep_

**Stevie:** _Hey Buck?_

**Stevie:** _What was it like seeing the stars? Anything like the Grand Canyon?_

**Bucky Barnes:** _kinda. maybe… maybe a whole different level of awesome. still wanna go back tho._

**Stevie:** _Mmm. We’ll make it happen one day._

**Bucky Barnes:** _wish u could see this_.

They keep their back and forth going for a while, Tony saying nothing even though he’s awake for at least half of Bucky’s incessant texting. Eventually Steve gets tired, if his uncharacteristically sloppy texting is any indication, and they call it a night, Bucky having to remind himself not to play it too open by saying something stupid. For all he knows, this could still go to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: ... are you even ready?


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: fair warning this chapter covers a lot of emotional ground so there's gonna be some sensitive content. Warnings will be at the end, in which there will probably be major spoilers for the chapter, so approach with discretion.   
> :-) So yeah a lot is going on! Civil War gets closer and Seb has a flirty ass interview that destroys every single one of his stans! Aaaaand this chapter rolls around. I'm very excited and very happy and I just couldn't wait to give this to you guys (almost went straight up and posted Monday). I really really hope this delivers and that y'all are good with this, because I feel like this is one of those chapters that I've been building up to in the process of the whole thing. I should stop talking now. I'm nervous. -G
> 
> hello my lovelies sorry I’ve been m.i.a. in the author notes i’ve been mega busy which sucks but pls enjoy this fun lil chapter :-) -India

Bucky wakes with a start, his skin slick with sweat and his right hand clutching at his left arm, almost like he was trying to tear it off.

“Hey,” Tony says, leaning over and resting a hand gently on Bucky’s knee. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

Bucky blinks, trying to get his breathing steady, reminding himself of where he is.

“We’re almost back, just twenty minutes.”

The plane is shaking, hitting a couple of air pockets that probably made him jerk awake in the first place.

Still in a daze, Bucky tips his head towards Tony and asks, “You guys usually get my results back pretty fast, anything in yet?”

“You went in for a check-up last week, right?”

Bucky nods.

“Yeah, then the latest reports are fine. Anything otherwise would’ve popped up before everything else I have to keep track of. You’re clean, Buck.”

Bucky exhales long and steady like he’s been holding it in since the day of the check-up. Somehow it doesn’t quell his anxiety. He’s tense the rest of the journey, the whole way till he gets home and unlocks his apartment.

On top of the nightmare, thinking about how he’s supposed to deal with Steve is making everything worse. His heart is hammering (in the not nice way) with the thought of having to say it, the chance that everything could fall apart, and he feels like he’s on the verge of throwing up every time he even looks towards the kitchen. “Sorry buddy,” he mutters helplessly at his growling stomach.

Part of him is kind of bummed that Steve isn’t here, but that’s fair considering he left without notice. The other part of him understands that it is by far a better situation for him, what with there being less chance of vomiting over Steve’s feet. Ew.

Bucky just about jumps out of his skin when he hears a loud bang. “Steve?” he says warily. He could’ve sworn Steve wasn’t home. All too paranoid, Bucky gets up slowly, quietly rolling his left shoulder should he need to use the arm.

There’s no answer, so Bucky approaches the source of the sound. He shuts his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before opening the door to Steve’s room and –

Oh. Well now he feels stupid.

There’s a box from Steve’s cupboard that fell, papers and notebooks scattered across the floor. He should probably do Steve a favour and pick them up before he gets back.

He seats himself among the mess and tries to put everything away in some sort of organized manner, noticing that it’s got some of Steve’s writing on them. Battling his curiosity, Bucky passes fleeting gazes over the work. Writing is a private thing; he knows that, so he tries his best to do it all without reading more than a word a page.

But then he comes across a tattered, crumpled piece of paper with scribbled lettering, much different from the rest of the stuff he put away. The ink starts soft, but quickly gets harsher, the letters turning into something that almost reads as intangible, intrinsically angry.

Bucky should really, _really_ put it down, put it away, leave it be. It’s obviously more personal than the other stuff.

_When was the last time you felt your heart race at the mere touch of their skin?_

Oh. Well….

_When was the last time you had to stop yourself from reaching out, from letting yourself taste the lure, the addiction, the potential of being happy?_

Oh. Bucky’s fingers flinch, and he gets the idea that he should stop reading, especially with the clench of his stomach, but his damned eyes keep reading.

_Look me dead in the eye, answer me this, and feel shame, regret, anger; feel anything you can until it’s all eviscerated, and you can face them again with a simple smile and a habitual, non-consequential interaction._

No, no. Don’t do that. Closing up is not advised, I know from experience. Bad Steve. Bucky makes a noise, telling his inner monologue to shut up.

_The tightness in your chest that makes you feel like you’ll explode whenever they smile? The softening of your rough edges – like charcoal being smudged from a harsh line into the sweetest, most sorrowful fade – just by being near them? The instantaneous calm which courses through your entire being?_

Bucky has never related to anything more. He wonders if Steve knows, if that’s what this is; somehow Steve managed to pick up on everything and put his finger exactly on how Bucky feels about Steve. Maybe… maybe it’s about Peggy.

_Turn it away. Take it, turn it away, and breathe. You built these walls; you beat them down, then isolated yourself like you had no other choice. You live with this now, the choices you made._

_The taste that has severed your mind since the day you let it consume you is not yours to yearn. The warmth that you crave is in your head. The moan that you drew from them was not for you._

_His smile is his alone. Just as you are not his, he is not yours._

It’s getting harder to breathe. This isn’t what he thinks it is. Bucky’s just crazy, and maybe a little bit hopeful in some twisted way.

_Let the anger come now, the regret. Let the bitter taste in your mouth make you think twice._

_What are you now?_

_What are you now that you’ve let yourself drown in everything he exudes; what are you now that you’ve fallen so deep you don’t know who you are? Take him and what are you?_

_Let the fear settle deep in your bones, let it remind you that to answer this you must keep him, and to keep him you must let be._

_The inherent warmth of metal to your cheek is not yours._

The sheet of paper slips between Bucky’s fingers, fluttering to the floor. Th…

“Bucky?” Steve says sharply. Bucky jerks his head to look at the door where Steve is watching him with a guarded expression. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…”

“Get out.”

“I-it fell, Steve, the box fell, pl-”

“Out.”

Steve’s voice is cold, and it reminds Bucky all too much of the argument they had over Steve’s work. It can’t happen again, though, not this. He can’t stop talking to Steve, he can’t withdraw and go so deep into his misery that he doesn’t know who he is anymore, not when he’s finally admitted to himself that he lo-

Steve steps into the room, purposely leaving the door wide open to drop his brutal hint: leave.

Bucky swallows, clenching his jaw as he gets up. He hesitates when he passes by Steve, wants to say something, and wants to ask what it _means_. But he stalls. He can’t find the words. He can’t even look at Steve.

“S-sorry.”

After Steve shuts the door on him, Bucky hears Steve move around his room, then whisper harshly, “ _Fuck!_ ”

If Bucky was anxious before, he’s not sure what to call whatever it is he’s feeling right now. Sick to his stomach, maybe. Guilty. Confused.

He goes into the bathroom and lets the tap run till it goes cold, then puts his hands under the water and brings it to his face. It makes him open his eyes a bit wider once he’s dried off, but that’s about it.

Who can he… He just bombed Tony’s business trip in the fucking gorgeous mountains; he can’t go to him again so soon and botch up Tony’s day again. He can’t do that to him.

 _God_ , why is he so _desperate_? Can’t he fucking get by on his own? He keeps relying on his friends, and yeah they tell him it’s okay, but he must look so fucking _pathetic_. It’s bad enough that he dragged them all down in his self-destructive pity party over his arm for a solid five years, but now he just doesn’t _stop_. It’s not just those five years, it’s every day since. He doesn’t stop burdening his friends, being an inconvenience with his incapability to hold it together.

Steve.

Bucky drops to his knees, holding himself over the toilet in case he needs to throw up. He’s hugely dissatisfied to find that his body won’t let him, so he stays a minute longer before getting up, hesitantly leaving the bathroom.

 _Steve_.

He glances around the apartment, noting the telltale signs that give away exactly who resides here. It’s generally tidy, but it’s still obvious. Steve’s three pairs of shoes, lined up neatly by the door, while Bucky’s one pair of ratty Converse are tossed recklessly aside near a box with his work shoes in them. The few books Steve keeps out for reading with so many dog-eared pages that they practically have no purpose anymore are on the table, not far off from where Bucky dropped his jacket on the back of the couch when he got back. A few other things, so distinctly theirs, make it feel like _home_.

Home with Steve.

_It’s all temporary though, isn’t it?_

Even with everything here, or just in his room, it’s all horribly changeable. A few years from now the building could be torn down. Bucky would be gone, long forgotten, maybe without Steve. This whole place is just… irrelevant. He’s just passing time, passing the days until he does something meaningful or until he leaves this world for good.

It’s terrifying.

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. Here he thought the length of life was stressful enough, but the polar opposite of how fleeting it all is is just as jarring. He doesn’t have forever.

Guess that’s what people say when they say to make the present worth it.

Jerking his head, Bucky clears his thoughts and slips his shoes on, leaving the apartment. He doesn’t want to think about that right now.

***

Steve should really get into the habit of being more honest and open, but even if he wanted to, seeing Bucky in his room with _that_ piece of writing in his hand stopped Steve from wanting anything else but to be left alone.

Of all the shit that could’ve happened, Bucky had to come home while he was out, when the box dropped, had to be the good guy and put it all back only to find that specific…

As if he doesn’t feel fucked up enough right now. God, he feels bad for having done that to Buck, but now… now his cards are out face-up, and he has no idea how he’s supposed to face Bucky. It’s obvious who he wrote that about. He should’ve fucking listened to his tiny bit of rational thought from when he wrote it and not put the last line in, but that day he was too mad at himself.

And now look where he is: still fucking mad at himself.

It sure as hell doesn’t help that yesterday was the anniversary of his mother’s passing. He didn’t expect Bucky to just up and leave like that, not like he had any obligation to stay, but it would’ve been nice to have him around when Steve needed him most.

Steve sits on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped before him while he bites down on his thumbs. His eyes flit over to the paper Bucky read not too long ago. Steve has the whole thing memorized, like a brainwashing mantra that he drilled into his head to torment himself.

_Take him and what are you?_

_God_ , Steve thinks, letting out a bitter laugh, _I can’t get myself through this weekend without him, can I?_

How is he supposed to move forward when his heart is caught on a hook?

Last night, when Bucky was still with Tony in Canada, Steve said he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t find it necessary to tell Bucky why, to make him feel guilty when he was out there enjoying what was undoubtedly one of his favourite things.

Thing is, this is always a bad time of year for him, and it’s one of the few times he’s had to spend it alone. Immediately after his mom passed away, he had Peggy to get him through it. That was when they got closer, and over the months they tried to make something of it. Peggy got an offer up in D.C., and they moved out of Brooklyn where he met Sam. Both of them made sure at least one of them was with him at this time of year, and after Peggy left, Sam would barely let Steve out of his sight.

The cycle is pretty regular by now: Steve wakes up to remember what day it is, and the whole morning is drowning in a sluggish, melancholy laziness that only makes him more depressed until he starts _thinking_. Sam used to try and distract him at that point, because that was where it spiralled beyond his control. The mornings were easier; Sam would make Steve’s favourite breakfast, make sure he ate, and he’d try to keep up some light humour. The thinking was rough, because once Steve began recalling memories, he’d sink deep, and all Sam could do was join in in a giant cuddle puddle whenever Steve allowed for it.

Then there’s the Stage Two thinking: where he dwells on his life now and craves validation, even if he’ll deny that that’s what he really wants for the sake of not disturbing anyone, not to mention his stubborn insistence that he can manage on his own.

Stage Two lasts over a few days, and that’s where Steve is right now.

“I can deal on my own, I don’t need coddling,” he used to snap, and Sam would give him this look, and Steve knew he was being difficult.

“Too bad, because I want a hug,” Sam would reply, and Steve eventually gave in until he broke down into wrecked sobs.

He sniffs and goes to the bathroom, having run out of tissues in his room from yesterday. He sees himself in the mirror and thinks, _fuck, I’m a mess._

He could get over this. He could move on from his mom’s passing – maybe he already has – but that’s not what drags him low. He misses her, of course he does. But Steve can’t help think that she’d be disappointed in him.

Sam’s told him so many times that it’s stupid to think like that, that mothers are hardly like that, especially Sarah Rogers. She loved him so much, and she would have understood. Maybe she would’ve even been proud.

But standing in Bucky’s apartment staring at his own tired eyes, the eyes of an adult who can’t seem to scrape his life together, makes Steve berate himself for being so doleful and incompetent.

~~God, he needs Bucky.~~

***

What is he doing?

Bucky’s a few blocks away from the apartment when he realizes how fucking _stupid_ he’s being. Steve is back there, and yeah he might be mad that Bucky read the note, but it has to mean something. This is his chance to make things right and finally settle the dust.

He turns on his heel and begins the journey back to their building, gnawing anxiously at his lower lip while working a fresh hole into the left sleeve cuff of his hoodie.

He feels light headed when he goes up, heart racing a little with adrenaline. He’s doing this. He has to. _Goddamn_ he can’t just let Steve slip through his fingers, not this time. He’s not going to let Steve shut him out again.

“Steve?” Bucky calls once he’s in, but there’s no response. He checks the shoes by the door, and all of them are still there, including the ones he just took off.

Taking in a shaky breath, Bucky goes to Steve’s room, knocking gently on the door. “Steve? Can I come in? Please, I – we should talk.”

Again, nothing.

“Stevie, I have to talk to you.”

God, why does he have to be so _stubborn_?

Against his better judgement, Bucky opens the door to find the room empty.

Confused, Bucky turns to glance at the rest of the apartment. Nothing gives away Steve’s presence.

Then he hears the slightest sound from the bathroom. A whimper, if he has to give it a name.

The door is locked, and Bucky knocks and asks if he’s okay. If he was and he was just taking a piss, Steve would reply, but he doesn’t, and that’s when Bucky’s stomach twists.

He tries again, but Steve does nothing besides whimper a little more loudly.

“ _Stevie_.”

He doesn’t think twice before driving his left fist through the door to unlock the door from the inside, hoping Steve will forgive him for the scare. He’s not quite prepared for the sight of Steve sitting in the bathtub, knees tucked into his chest, biting at his hand to hold back the noises as he cries, looking about ten times smaller than he is.

“Oh, baby,” Bucky breathes, clambering in next to Steve and pulling him in for a hug. Steve makes a strangled noise, and Bucky can’t even try and hold back his need to comfort Steve in the most physical way possible. He cradles Steve’s head in his arms, holding him close and pressing little kisses into his hair, rocking back and forth as much as the space will allow for two built guys.

“Th- th,” Steve starts, cutting himself off with a little hiccup. Bucky shushes him, smoothing his hand through Steve’s hair. “Th’ door.”

Bucky gives a short laugh, partly in disbelief of Steve’s priorities. “It’s alright, Steve, I’ll get it fixed.” It won’t take much, he thinks, just a quick call and an awkward conversation to avoid explaining why it is exactly that he busted the door open. He could’ve unlocked the door in a much less destructive way, but the noise Steve let out made the need to get inside more urgent than any sort of sensibility.

“I gotcha, Steve, I’m here with you, you’re gonna be okay,” Bucky mutters, keeping up the reassurances for as long as Steve needs to calm down.

When it’s been long enough that Steve’s reduced to breathing heavily with slight sniffles, clutching onto Bucky like a lifeline, Bucky pulls back and frames Steve’s face with his hands, brushing away the wetness on Steve’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“Hey,” he says gently, “how are you doing, bud?”

“F-fine. I’m sorry.”

Bucky frowns, tilting Steve’s head up until he looks him in the eye. “Don’t be. And you’re _not_ fine. You wanna telling me what’s goin’ on?”

Bucky half expects Steve to refuse, so he’s surprised when Steve sits up a little straighter, making Bucky’s hands drop to his lap. “My, uh. My mom passed some time ago, and – ”

“You miss her.”

Steve’s lips turn down, eyebrows furrowing. He nods.

“And that’s not all of it. Go on, Stevie, I got nowhere else to be, not tonight.”

It spills. All of it, from Steve feeling guilty about his job all the way to being a little angry that Bucky wasn’t here for him yesterday, even though he doesn’t outright say that because he knows it isn’t Bucky’s fault. Steve talks about dropping his position at The Peacock, but he’s just so _used_ to it now, and yeah he’s trying stuff for his writing that Sam is pushing him to do, but he can’t give up the night job just yet.

A couple times, Bucky cautiously cuts in to remind Steve that there’s nothing wrong with it, that there’s no shame in his job. It’s okay. He keeps repeating that last bit, and every time he does, Steve begins to believe it a little bit more.

It’s okay.

“We’re gonna get through this, you and I. We’re fighters,” Bucky whispers determinedly. Steve nods, hesitating before nuzzling into Bucky’s side again.

It’s quiet for a while, so quiet that Bucky’s thoughts get too loud until there’s only one thing left.

He wants Steve to know.

“Sarcoma.”

Steve picks his head up from Bucky’s shoulder and looks at him strange.

“Synovial sarcoma, it’s how I lost my arm.”

Steve’s mouth opens a bit, but no words come out until, “Buck, th… You had cancer?”

Bucky huffs, rubbings his palms against his thighs. “Had being the operative word. My most recent check-up was actually last week, had a CT scan. Tony told me I’m still goin’ strong, so.”

Steve blinks, his expression cycling between confusion, concern, and bewilderment. His eyes flit across Bucky’s face, tracing his features very carefully, and Bucky feels his cheeks heating up a little. Then his sensors pick up a signal, and he looks down to see Steve’s fingers tracing along the metal of his hand. They’re both mesmerised for a moment, until Steve begins trailing his hand up Bucky’s arm and brings it to Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky resists the urge to press into the touch.

“I don’t know what to say,” Steve whispers, so softly that it makes Bucky’s chest tighten.

Bucky shrugs, maybe doing the motion a little bit on purpose just so he can appreciate Steve’s touch for as long as it’s there, tilting towards Steve’s palm with the movement. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, I – I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I – ”

Letting out a small smile, Bucky stops him. “I told you, punk, you don’t gotta say anything. But thanks. I… I don’t mean to detract from your situation, I just wanted you to know, because,” Bucky says, stalling. Abort. “During that time I was… I didn’t know how to deal or how to tell anyone, and even now I keep it to a bare minimum. Back then I closed up a lot, got lost in my own thoughts and didn’t want to be honest.” He laughs, and Steve frowns. “I thought that if no one knew that maybe I’d forget, that maybe it wouldn’t be real. I was in a relationship around that time, and I kept being quiet and distant, and I lost him because of it. I can’t do that anymore, Steve. It’s not worth it. I won’t go blabbing the truth to everyone, but.”

Bucky stops, frustrated at the words he wants to say but won’t come out.

“But what?” Steve asks, ducking his head down to meet Bucky’s gaze.

“I don’t… I don’t want to do that to you. I don’t want to shut you out like that.”

Steve swallows, finally letting his hand drop to rest atop of Bucky’s, not having realized he was playing with Bucky’s hair in a naked display of his affection.

“Wh- what I’m _trying_ to say is that you’re a really, really great guy. Your mom would be proud of you for everything. You’ve come this far making a living for yourself, and the means don’t matter. And even if they do, who gives a damn? You’re one hell of a guy, and an even better stripper,” he says, letting his tone lilt a bit into a playful zone. “So if you ever think any different, just come talk to me and I’ll set you straight, Stevie. You’re trying, and that’s what counts. This whole thing is gonna take some time, but I know you; you’re a stubborn ass, and you’re gonna get this done and enrapture the entire fuckin’ world. And I know you don’t think your momma’s proud of you right now, but I promise she is, and when you get where I know you can get, she’ll be even more fuckin’ proud, right along with me.”

Steve’s biting his lip to keep it from trembling, but the last sentence has tears slipping down his cheeks. Bucky pulls him in tight, and he gives him another quick kiss atop his head. “C’mon, it’s gettin’ kinda late and you’ve gotta be tired after all this. We’ll get you some water and go to sleep, alright?”

Steve nods, clinging to Bucky for a bit longer before getting up.

There’s no discourse when Steve comes to Bucky’s door after having gotten ready for bed, looking tired and awfully pitiful. Bucky just smiles softly and gestures for Steve to get into his bed beside him, letting the dizzy feeling course through him that results from Steve trusting him with this tonight. Bucky scrolls on his phone for a while, not quite ready for sleep, using his free hand to massage Steve’s head, because he knows how bad a headache can be after a long cry.

Somewhere along the way, Bucky puts his phone to charge and wraps an arm around Steve, snuggling in close to his side.

It’s all alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of death, depression, cancer, moments of angst.
> 
> [Steve's letter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6202393)
> 
> Well... there it is.  
> Up next: ... a whole lot of our two favourite bis being really gay.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. My sister leaves today and she's gonna be married in a couple weeks and then she won't be coming back to Canada ahah. Sweet. Gonna go to the airport to drop her off... Let's see if my emotions kick in in time. Don't really think I'm ready for it. Anyway: onwards. -G
> 
> Hey friends enjoy the read :-) -India

Bucky’s the kind of guy that, when by some miracle he wakes up first, he’ll be sneaky and not wake the other up, taking the time to indulge in the warmth of another person.

Steve, on the other hand, is the type of person who wakes up, enjoys it for all of two seconds, then recalls the night before and freaks out over the unfamiliar amount of physical intimacy.

Bucky knows exactly when it happens too, because he feels Steve go tense in his arms. He fakes being asleep a little more to give Steve some time to figure out what he wants, but also to appreciate the closeness without having to risk any potential awkwardness.

With no better idea of what to do, Steve stays there a bit longer, but eventually he begins to pull away, ready to get up.

But Bucky can’t let that happen.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder and pressing gently until Steve relents, lying back down. Bucky breathes, gathering the courage to say what he needs to say. He rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one arm to look at Steve. “Steve, I need to ask you something. You’re not gonna like it, but.” Bucky stops, letting Steve decide whether or not he wants to go through with this. Steve nods. “What do you want?”

It’s simple, but it’s everything. See, Steve could be an asshole like he usually is, slap on a grin and say he wants some coffee and breakfast if Bucky’s offering to make it for him, but he doesn’t do that. He can hear his heart beating, but it’s slow and steady, and maybe that makes all the difference. “I swore I wouldn’t do this… not to myself or to anyone, Buck. I’m not enough, I can barely manage myself let alone commit selflessly to…”

Bucky wets his lips and starts again. “Steve, you can’t keep holding onto the past like that. You’re a different _person_ now, even if you don’t think you are. You can’t know that if you don’t try, and you can’t let that stop you from being _happy_.”

Steve huffs, running a hand through his hair and chancing a glance at Bucky, but Bucky looks too good for the fucking morning and Steve can’t look for too long. “The letter.”

“Yeah, the letter,” Bucky replies softly, smiling a little. “Steve, I don’t know why you tell yourself those things. I know from experience that closing off… it won’t do you any good. I’ve pushed people away before and lost parts of myself, and I don’t want that to happen with us.”

Steve’s eyes flit across the ceiling, for once not thinking of Peggy when his mind comes to this situation. Now it’s just him and Bucky.

“Listen, Stevie. You might think you can get by on your own, but the thing is… you don’t have to.” Bucky swallows his nerves and brings his hand to Steve’s face, brushing his fingers over the blushing skin. He remembers his train of thought from last night, about temporariness, and how little time he really has. Bucky wants to spend every goddamn minute he has left being happy with Steve. “’Cause I’m with you till the end of the line.”

Steve’s face crumples, breaking the eye contact that Bucky insisted on holding. He sighs and rolls onto his side to face Bucky, clutching with one hand at Bucky’s shirt. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Bucky wiggles around until he can get an arm under and around Steve, lying on his back and pulling Steve half on top of him. He gives the top of Steve’s head a soft kiss. “I want to take the risk for you, Steve. And… I think we could really do this.”

Steve stays quiet for a while, nuzzling Bucky’s chest from time to time, just to feel the contact. “What if I can’t?”

Bucky tightens the arm he has around Steve. “Then that’s okay. We’ll deal with that Steve, we’ll pull through what comes. But like I said, it’s the risk I’m willing to take. I… I don’t have any plans to go anywhere soon, Stevie. One little shop isn’t going to take me away from you, and – You’re fine doing what you’re doing. We’re making do pretty well right now, I don’t think that could come between us.”

“My job,” Steve says quietly, like it’s a secret, “It’ll be different if we’re together.”

The excuse makes a little laugh bubble out of Bucky. “Cheap argument, punk. I’ll live, maybe just be a little jealous, but that’s nothing new.” As Bucky hoped, that has Steve making a little whining noise. “At least this way I’ll be able to make sure I get my share on my days off.” He smiles when Steve hides his face against Bucky’s shirt, his ears glowing bright red and giving away the blush he’s trying to cover up. Bucky moves his hand into Steve’s hair, tangling his fingers in it and pressing gently.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Steve mumbles, the words getting absorbed since he refuses to move away from Bucky.

“No, Steve,” Bucky says, soft but resolute. “I’m not gonna let you go.”

Steve lets out a long breath and holds onto Bucky tighter, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them to make sure this is real. When Bucky’s still solid beneath him, still looking down at him with a warm gaze, Steve sighs contentedly.

“If this turns to shit you’re responsible,” Steve mumbles.

“Aw, baby,” Bucky coos, already going back for their innate playfulness, “Well if you’re already thinkin’ that way I guess I gotta show you it’s worth it.” He giggles when Steve tickles him, Bucky turning into a writhing mess as Steve moves to hover above him. “It won’t though,” Bucky insists. He sounds sincere, and more sure of himself – no, of _them_ – than Steve is of himself.

“It always does with me.”

Bucky gives Steve the sweetest doe eyes that make Steve want to punch him in the face, but then Bucky does this thing where he threads his fingers through Steve’s and kisses his knuckles, and all the air leaves Steve’s lungs. “That was like once, stop being so dramatic, baby boy.”

Steve scowls down at Bucky. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why?” Bucky says in a sultry teasing tone. “You don’t like that, baby boy?”

Steve groans and drops his head to the space between Bucky’s neck and his shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

“Aww, c’mon babydoll.”

‘ _Babydoll_ ’ lifts his head, ready to give Bucky hell for making him turn the shade of a ripe tomato. But you see, the thing about Bucky is that sometimes he’ll give Steve these looks of complete adoration, like there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be because Steve is better than all of it. Before now he’s been pretty good at hiding them, even though Steve’s caught a couple and skittered away having no clue how to deal with them. But now Bucky’s giving him that same damn look, only ten times more affectionate, and Steve is too close to pretend it doesn’t affect him.

“I – ” Steve starts, because he just _has_ to ruin the moment. “I have to ask… You’re sure about this?”

Bucky’s goddamn stupid loving gaze just gets _worse_ and Steve is trying his best not to combust because it’s too fucking early for this. Bucky’s eyes flit across Steve’s face, and he nods once.

Steve’s breath falters. “One more q-question. Can I…” Steve trails off, his gaze dropping to Bucky’s lips before flicking back up nervously. Bucky smiles, for some reason insistent on not saying a word, and brings his hand to the back of Steve’s neck pulling him down for a soft, languid kiss.

If there’s only one thing in Steve’s head asides from the incessant chanting of _Buckybuckybuckybucky_ , it’s Steve thinking about how fucking stupid he is. Cautious of moving too fast – which is ironic since, you know, he’s already sucked Bucky’s dick once – and also too tired at this time in the morning to keep hovering, Steve moves to lie beside Bucky, not letting their lips part.

Bucky tangles a leg between Steve’s and pulls him closer, content little sighs leaving his mouth. They keep at it, tracing each other’s mouths until eventually they pull apart.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” Bucky mutters, his hands touching Steve like he can’t get enough physical contact between the two of them to express how he feels, to convey how close he feels to Steve in this very moment.

“Normal people get up at this time, Buck, it’s seven thirty.”

Bucky whines, and Steve is _so_ ready to hear more of that. Definitely sounds better coming from him. “We’re not normal people, and I’m just taking care of you, Stevie. You had a rough night last night.”

Steve’s laugh is hands down the best noise ever. “Your words are slurring together, so I’m pretty sure you’re just too lazy to get up.”

“Sleep, Minion fucker. You can falsely accuse me when we wake up at a more reasonable time.”

“That’s just _low_ ,” Steve complains, but after a short laugh and some more heckling to get back at Bucky, they both fall back asleep feeling better than they have in months.

***

“Mmm, you wanna know a secret?” Bucky says later that day, making his way beside Steve who’s brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“You mean besides the truth about what happened to your arm? Because in case you forgot, you already told me that one.”

“Nuh-uh,” Bucky mumbles, leaning against Steve’s shoulder. He kind of wants to plaster himself all over Steve and rub up against him like a cat, but at the same time he doesn’t want to freak Steve out. “Tony told me to either talk to you or kick you out.”

Somehow Steve’s guessing Bucky didn’t expect that to hit Steve as hard as it does. He doesn’t respond immediately, instead opting to pour out the cups and dump a couple heaps of sugar in for Bucky. When he gives Bucky his cup, he wraps his hands around Bucky’s. “Buck… I’m sorry. I – I don’t know why you put up with me through all of this.”

“It’s fine, you made me coffee. You’ve redeemed yourself.”

“No, just… I – ”

“Steve, hey. We both needed the time. And maybe it’s better we went through that kind of stuff before. I’m just glad that we’re here now.”

The smile Steve gives is shy and absolutely adorable, so Bucky takes it upon himself to hop on his tiptoes and plant a quick kiss on Steve’s nose. Bucky calls it a win when he catches Steve’s blush blooming almost instantly. Once Steve’s taken his hands back to himself, Bucky slyly gets a hand on Steve’s ass and gives it a terse slap.

“Buck!” Steve yelps, his blush travelling all the way down his shirt. Now _that’s_ satisfying. Bucky smiles innocently and takes his mug into the living room, expecting Steve to follow.

“So,” Bucky says diplomatically, which kind of makes Steve laugh because _nothing_ Bucky ever says when he looks serious is actually serious, “I guess you’ve earned rights as to what we’re going to watch right now.”

“Oh really?” Steve says, lifting a brow and settling onto the couch, whining at the unexpected amount of Bucky that ends up cuddled beside him. “Well good for you, because I was thinking we don’t watch anything.”

Bucky halts with his mug halfway to his lips and gives Steve an incredulous look. “Rogers, you do realize that this is one of _very few times_ I will ever give you TV privilege?”

Steve smiles and shrugs. “Yeah, you’re an asshole like that, so I figured. But it’s okay.”

“Oh, so you have something _special_ planned?” Bucky asks, poking fun at Steve with his tone.

“No, nothing. Just wanna chill.”

“You can’t pull the chill without the Netflix, Stevie, then it’s just obvious.”

Steve puts his mug aside so he can pull Bucky’s head into his lap and run his fingers through his hair. And if Bucky hums with gratitude, Steve will never blab. Maybe.

“Never said that kind of chill, Buck.”

Bucky frowns and wiggles his way out of Steve’s hands. “If you’re not trying to seduce me then at least let me finish my coffee before being sappy. Jeez Rogers, you chose to miss out on this for so long, I don’t think a few more minutes could hurt.” Steve sighs in an all too dramatic way, the kind that says _I’m going to fucking say sorry again because I’m sorry_ , but Bucky quickly tacks on, “Don’t you dare say sorry. I already told you. If I’m not allowed to tease you about that, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, trying to convince himself that Bucky means what he’s saying.

 _I’m still sorry_ , he thinks.

“Can hear you thinkin’, Rogers.”

“Eat my ass,” Steve snaps reflexively.

Bucky just gives him the most scandalous onceover and smirks. “Maybe later.”

Steve excuses himself from the room so he can go shower, and Bucky doubles over from laughing so hard.

***

**Bucky babe:** <https://youtu.be/tVj0ZTS4WF4>

**Steve Rogers:** _Wait how did my contact name change for you?_

**Bucky babe:** _:-) u left ur phone out earlier when u went to shower. couldnt resist._

**Bucky babe:** _dont worry i didnt scour ur phone for ur folder of hot pics of me ;)_

**Steve Rogers:** _I don’t have pictures of you, and just so you know, I changed your name again._

**Assface:** _what? what is it? pls tell me its s/t classy abe_

**Assface:** _babe fuck lol_

**Steve Rogers:** _About as classy as you are, don’t worry._

**Steve Rogers:** _Also what the fuck is that video… Why????_

**Assface:** _:-) its what u fckn get fr changin my name_

**Steve Rogers:** _Please, I did that after you sent me the link. Aren’t you supposed to be shopping for a new door?_

**Assface:** _oh my god… oh my god stevie look what clint just forwarded to me_

Steve opens the attachment to find a roll of Minion covered duct tape, almost walking straight into the door of a classroom instead of through it.

**Assface:** _daddy tape my mouth shut with this_

**Steve Rogers:** _You’ve crossed a line._

**Assface:** _are u gonna punish me daddy?_

**Steve Rogers:** _Stop calling me that._

**Assface:** _what if i dont want to? ;-)_

**Steve Rogers:** _… Stop. Please._

**Assface:** _p sure im the one thats supposed to be begging stevie_

**Assface:** _god i bet ur blushin so hard rn baby_

**Assface:** _but hey… are u sure u /really/ want me to stop callin u that?_

“Hey, Steve, so Sharon will probably be off for the next year for maternity leave, do you know anyone who could take her place?”

“Huh?” Steve says, his head jerking up. Principal Fury lifts an eyebrow at his undoubtedly bright red face, and Steve catches Bruce smiling into his cup before he recalls the question that was just asked of him. “Uh, I don’t th- think so. I might know one person but I’m pretty sure she’s employed. I’ll ask if she’s interested, but yeah other than that…”

“Alright, let me know before the next staff meeting we have before school starts.”

Steve nods quickly.

“Let him get back to his sexting,” Sharon says teasingly. “Boy writes some tasteful filth.”

“I never wrote you anything,” Steve says quickly, making Sharon throw her head back with a laugh.

Steve unlocks his phone to see the texts that’re waiting for him.

**Assface:** _…_

**Assface:** _daddy?_

Steve just about squeaks in front of all of his co-workers.

**Steve Rogers:** _I WAS BUSY I COULDN’T REPLY STRAIGHT AWAY FUCK NO DON’T CALL ME THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

**Assface:** _huh… huh tru nvm im the top here, so_

**Assface:** _wait wait… will u call /me/ daddy?_

**Steve Rogers:** _JESUS BUCK STOP IT!!! I’m at a meeting!!!_

**Assface:** _just tryna spice it up for u sugar ;-) know that shit can be a bore_

**Steve Rogers:** _Please stop._

**Assface:** _so im allowed to call u sugar_

**Assface:** _im gonna drop by to pick u up when ur meetings done_

**Steve Rogers:** _Please don’t._

***

Bucky shows up at the school around the time Steve said the meeting would end, only the building is locked and he’s stuck hanging around the front entrance looking like a complete _loser_.

He’s not going to lie, he’s a little nervous. It’s one thing to turn up what they’re already used to, like the teasing and their physical intimacy, and yeah Steve’s visited him at work in the past and still does it sometimes when he’s not holed up writing a freelance article for a paper that Sam is forcing him to keep up with. And yeah, Steve’s met his colleagues but… Okay yeah, so it’s pretty similar and he’s just bugging out for no reason but _still_.

He doesn’t want to seem overbearing. He just has a lot of pent up affection that he really wants to throw at Steve.

It’s about ten minutes later when some of the staff comes streaming out, each of them giving Bucky a knowing look, a couple of the women giggling and _clearly_ whispering about him. It’s starting to make him feel very uncomfortable, and he’s about to chicken out and dash home when Steve comes out of the door, looking up and stopping in his tracks when he catches sight of Bucky.

Bucky smiles sheepishly, walking over and ignoring the flow of gossiping staff members moving past them. “Hi,” he says, voice awfully squeaky.

“I didn’t think you were actually gonna come,” Steve mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and saying bye to some of the Actual Adults heading home.

Bucky shrugs. “Wanted to see you.”

Scuffing the ground with his shoe, Steve bites back his smile. “You’re not sick of seeing me as much as you already do, huh?”

“Can’t get enough of you, sugar,” Bucky teases, feeling immensely pleased by Steve’s reaction. He looks ridiculously cute when he scrunches his nose.

“Hey, Cap,” someone says, and Bucky looks over Steve’s shoulder to find a short, cute blonde walking towards them.

“Hey, Sharon!”

Bucky barely stops himself from bursting out into laughter, suddenly hit by the memory of Steve groaning facedown into his bed sheets. Steve jabs him in the side, and Bucky’s about to complain about how very rude it is of him to treat Bucky like that when Sharon comes up to them, giving Bucky a quick glance. Oh, so apparently Steve’s whole _staff_ knows what’s up. Then again, that might’ve had something to do with their texting earlier today.

“Since I probably won’t see you again at the school until I get this beast out of me, I left you somethin’ in your office. Fury’s holding the doors open for another half an hour if you want to go grab it.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows, confused as to why she didn’t just hand it to him right there. Before he can ask, she throws Bucky one more meaningful glance and winks, then dashes off.

More confused than not, Bucky trails behind Steve as he’s dragged through the school and the gym, until Steve pulls out a set of keys and unlocks his office.

“Knew it,” Steve mutters, and Bucky furrows his eyebrows before following behind into the office, and oh man. That…

“That’s a lot of Minions.”

Steve turns to him with a sheepish grin, stepping around Bucky to shut the door behind them. “They keep everyone thinkin’ I’m crazy enough to not try anything with a teacher.” He smiles, a hint of shyness disappearing as he backs Bucky up against the door, breath hot on Bucky’s neck.

“Wh… Hey, there,” Bucky stammers. He shivers when he feels Steve’s laugh so close to his skin. “Mind tellin’ me what’s goin on, Cap?”

Steve shuts his eyes, smiling broadly before pressing his lips to Bucky’s skin. “Sharon didn’t leave any gift for me.”

“Oh?” Bucky asks, bringing a hand to the back of Steve’s neck. Who cares if he looks desperate? Feeling Steve right there is intoxicating and no one can blame him for wanting more.

“Not at all,” Steve mutters, right before grazing his teeth along Bucky’s collarbone. Bucky groans lowly, using his other hand to grip onto the filing cabinet nearby. “If I know my coworkers, they’re betting on how long we’re going to spend down here.”

“And how long _are_ we going to spend down here?” Bucky asks breathlessly. God, Steve’s not even _kissed_ him yet. That definitely needs to change though, so he tugs at the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck and brings him up for a rough kiss.

Steve pulls back to answer Bucky’s question, though he keeps his eyes cast down to Bucky’s lips. “I owe Banner the most, and he probably bet on something prude like ten minutes because he doesn’t think I’ll allow anything unethical to go down on school grounds.”

“Mm, and would he be right?”

Steve uses his body to press Bucky back into the door, kissing Bucky so fervently that Bucky almost thinks Bruce is going to lose the bet.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters after a good five minutes, and Bucky leans forward to try and catch Steve’s mouth again, but Steve pulls back with an apologetic smile. He’s blushing all over and his pupils are dilated, and Bucky just wants to drop to his knees right there and make the decision for Steve. He bites his lip to keep from saying anything dumb. “Fury wouldn’t be happy if he found out, and I’m fairly sure he’s not in on this bet.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the room, a sudden unnerving rush running through him. “Yeah, come to think of it, I’m not sure if I’m ready to fuck you in a room with a million Minions staring into my soul.”

Steve can’t blush any harder, and considering he was the one that initiated the whole thing, the most he does is huff out a laugh. “Yeah, probably not the best place.”

It takes them a couple more minutes to let their skin stop buzzing with each other’s touch, and another few to get out of the room without falling victim to the other’s attempts to make their resolve falter, but eventually they make it out of the school.

As thrilled as Bucky was, he’s got to admit he doesn’t really want to start the more intimate parts of their relationship in a _high school_. And like Steve said, it just seems plain _wrong_. And yeah they’ve been cuddling and touching a lot more, and Steve’s not once slept in his own bed for the past couple of nights, but Bucky doesn’t want to push Steve into anything more unless he’s comfortable, and since Steve’s not been doing much expect smothering him in flurries of kisses, Bucky’s not in a rush. Even though everything is temporary, Bucky has the rest of his life to take his time with Steve, and that thought alone is enough to stifle his desire.

(For like, maybe a week, max.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's that texting bit in here that's not entirely original with the tape and I can't find the source right now since I have to dash out but if y'all wanna find it it should be in the tag for the fic on my blog later?   
> Hope y'all enjoyed :~)  
> Finally  
> deep breaths


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be a pisshead and give a spoiler but... warning horns for explicit material ahead :!) -G

The first night after Steve woke up to Bucky, Steve was smiling lopsidedly the whole darn day, giving Bucky these little glances and looking away the second Bucky looked back. He’d scrunch his nose, right before Bucky pinched him and told him, “It’s okay to look, Stevie, I’m all yours.” Needless to say, Steve laughed and blushed a bit, but he indulged in watching Bucky around the apartment more. It also took a bit for Bucky to convince Steve that they were okay to touch. That day was pretty perfect, especially when Steve showed up at his bedroom door later in the night and asked if he could join him. Bucky nodded so hard he almost broke his neck.

“Nothing’s changed,” Bucky said drowsily the next morning when Steve startled when he realized he was plastered all over Buck, “except for the fact that we both got our heads out of our asses. So just be the same as you were before, Steve, ‘cept without the emotional constipation. That’s the Stevie I signed up for, not this alien Steve. I’m pretty sure you’re an alien in my Steve’s body right now, but that’s okay. Take as long as you need, alien, I’ll still be here when Steve wants to show himself,” Bucky continued his nonsensical rambling, his words slurring together as he patted Steve’s hair gently.

“I’ll just keep hittin’ on you in the meantime and makin’ you all shy n’ shit until Steve sees how ridiculous his alien inhabitant is being and decides to assume control of his own body again to start being the piece of shit I know he is. I kinda like you anyway, alien.” Bucky stopped, then snorted. “Gay alien.” Steve rolled his eyes and swatted at Bucky for a bit before leaning back into his side, both of them staying in bed until Steve found the strength in him to drag Bucky up for his shift at work.

It seems only today has the real Steve resurfaced, being playful even through his bashfulness. Bucky reckons it’ll take him just a couple more days before Steve is worse than him.

Then again, with how things went down at Steve’s office earlier today Bucky wouldn’t be all that surprised if Steve kicked things up a few notches right now. Either way, Steve is clearly feeling more comfortable, and when Bucky gets back from picking up some milk, Steve’s a little more cuddly than he’d ever be willing to admit.

“Hi,” Steve mutters into Bucky’s neck. Bucky’s not even taken off his shoes yet, and the door is still wide open.

“Hey. You’re cooking.”

Steve murmurs and nods, and Bucky’s having a fucking ride with all the butterflies making his mind unable to focus on anything except for _Steve touching him and being close and not holding back and holy shit this feels so good_. It’s distinctly more intimate and definitely longer than what they used to do before, in a way that makes Bucky’s chest feel like it’s going to explode because there’s a chance that _maybe_ Steve feels the same way about him, that he…

Bucky pulls back with an apologetic smile, tucking his hair behind his ear. He really fucking hopes he doesn’t say something stupid right now.

“I should go shower,” Bucky mutters, but Steve does this tiny, almost-not-there frown that makes it impossible for Bucky to follow up on his suggested plan of action. It’s the smallest things Steve does that would make Bucky say the stupidest things if given the chance, and he’s spent so long ignoring them and trying not to pay attention to them. Now that he’s _allowed_ to spend half his life staring at Steve, Bucky’s getting overwhelmed by every little thing. Steve is too damn much.

Instead of saying all of that, Bucky follows Steve back into the kitchen to watch him fuss over the onions that are taking too long to cook.

“What’re you makin’?”

“Some,” Steve starts, furrowing his eyebrows as he studies a tiny burn on his thumb that he got from touching the pan, “some recipe for a tomato rice. Sam sent it over, thought I’d give it a try.”

“Just rice?” Bucky asks teasingly, knowing well that Steve’s appetite won’t be satiated so easily. He takes hold of Steve’s thumb and finds the bright red area of the burn, bringing it up to his lips so he can give it a quick kiss. “Gotta be more careful, Stevie.”

Steve huffs, taking his hand back and fixing Bucky with a flustered glare. “Yeah, says the one without an arm.” Steve’s eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said, and he turns to Bucky looking absolutely appalled with himself.

Bucky laughs, slipping his hands onto Steve’s hips and closing the gap between them. “It’s alright, gosh Steve. Make as many jokes about my arm as you like, it’s fine. I might’ve socked you for it a few years ago, but I’ve reached a point in my life where I just don’t give a shit anymore.”

Steve smiles sheepishly, then with lack of anything to say, cups Bucky’s face with his hands and leans forward, their foreheads touching. Bucky lets him enjoy it for a bit, just looking at each other cross-eyed with the sappiest smiles, their breaths mingling in the small space that’s left between them.

Steve bites his lip, smile faltering ever so slightly. “I… this is the worst time to ask, but… if I hadn’t,” Steve cuts off, scrunching his nose and not really wanting to say what he wants to say. “Would you have kicked me out?”

Thing is, this isn’t as hard to answer as it should be, partly because Bucky’s already thought about it before. “Probably not,” he admits, then laughs a bit. “I… Tony was right, but I don’t know if I could’ve done that. Maybe it would’ve been hard, but I think… asking you to leave would’ve been harder. And I know you don’t have many places to go off the bat, so living with you till you found a new place would’ve been awkward. I guess I’m just too selfish, what can I say? Can’t go a day without your ass in my life.” Steve rolls his eyes, but he brushes his thumb against Bucky’s cheek in a way that suggests the eye roll was more endearing than anything else. “’N anyway, I’m sure people have lived with worse. It would’ve been the easy way out, but it sure as hell wouldn’t have been easy.”

Steve’s smile is small, but the only thing that matters is that it’s there at all. With nothing more to say, Bucky presses his lips to Steve’s and gently pushes him back against the counter.

“Fuck! Ow, that’s hot!” Steve yelps, breaking the kiss almost as fast as it started and flailing about, trying to push Bucky back a bit.

“Aw, honey it was just _one kiss_. I know I’m good but I didn’t know I was _that_ good.”

“Shut up,” Steve groans, pouting ridiculously. He checks his hand which he stupidly tried to use to support himself, not having expected it to land right on the cooker. “You got any burn cream?”

“You know what siblings are like; Becca and I like to insult each other a lot,” Bucky says as way of a response, but Steve just looks confused and frankly _hurt_ as he runs his hand under cold water. “Yes, I do. Just stay here, alright?”

On his way out, Steve calls, “And hey, you should take that shower you were talking about. You stink like new clothes and _old people_.”

“Only if you join me!” Bucky replies, and even though Steve doesn’t reply he can picture Steve’s unimpressed expression. Too soon, probably, Bucky thinks, but that’s okay. They can save shower sex for another time.

***

When Bucky comes out of the shower, towel wrapped precariously around his hips (and okay, maybe he does that on purpose but that’s totally acceptable now, right?), he finds Steve on the couch looking flushed and grumpy.

“What happened to you?” Bucky asks, and Steve jerks his head up, his eyes widening and snapping away when he sees Bucky’s not dressed. “Hey, look all you want,” he teases, not having enough decency to change before sitting on the couch. “What happened?”

Steve scowls, glancing sideways at Bucky. “Burnt the food.”

“Wh… _How_?”

Steve turns sideways so he can stare hard at Bucky. “Because I was too busy thinking about what a certain someone was doing to me before to keep an eye on my onions.”

Bucky bites back his pleased smile, stretching his arms above his head and flexing just a little bit. Now that he knows Steve is looking, he’s allowed to preen. When he opens his eyes, he notices with triumph that Steve’s gaze is darker, his eyes definitely not on Bucky’s face. “I guess I did my job, then.”

“Pizza?” Steve says, not rising to Bucky’s bait quite so soon. Guess he’s got to work harder.

Bucky nods, then his eyes light up dangerously as the best idea _ever_ pops into his head. “Nudist colony of two.”

“What?”

“Our dinner prank. When the dude gets here we’re just going to be totally stripped down.”

Steve looks highly amused and totally shameless when he trails a hand down Bucky’s side. Bucky holds his breath, right up until Steve’s hand lands on his towel-covered thigh. “You’re _on_.”

***

So, since both of them realized it’s probably going to be problematic and unsavoury if they’re actually buck naked (Bucky inevitably giggled when Steve said that, which just earned him a smack up the head), Steve is wearing his _kiss the chef_ apron that Tony got him for his birthday. It wasn’t long before he got a red Sharpie to scribble “DON’T” above it in huge caps, and Bucky’s had a hard time listening to the demanding apron as of recent. He’s not the only one, though, because once when Natasha and Clint paid a quick visit before they got together, she insisted on planting a quick and unexpected kiss right on Steve’s cheek, leaving him blushing and flustered (Bucky both loved and hated Natasha in that moment).

Anyhow, Bucky is making a much more feeble attempt to cover up.

“That’s _my sweater_!” Steve yelps when Bucky comes out with only, yes, Steve’s sweater tied around his waist. The sleeves are knotted up right in front of his dick, and Steve looks scarred.

“Aww, sugar,” Bucky teases, revelling in the colour that blooms on Steve’s cheeks. “I thought couples are supposed to share clothes.”

“Yeah, but not to – ” Steve starts to protest, having a hard time keeping his eyes at least above Bucky’s abs. The knock on the door cuts him off.

“Showtime,” Bucky whispers excitedly, and the way he rubs his hands together makes Steve very, very worried.

When Bucky goes to the door, Steve frowns realizing that the torso of his sweater covers Bucky’s ass, meanwhile the apron protects only Steve’s front, leaving his ass straight up bare.

 _Also,_ _hold up is that the delivery guy Bucky flirted with that one time?_ Steve blinks a couple times, remembering unhelpfully that Bucky’s fingers can do that _thing_. Either way, Bucky is at the door chatting with the delivery guy as he takes the pizza from him. He turns around to Steve, calling, “Hey, sugar, get some cash would ya?”

Steve’s hand twitches. He is burning with jealousy. That’s the simplest, most dramatic way to put it, but _honestly_. He’s hardly got to see Bucky stripped down this much, let alone be allowed to appreciate it. He’s not even been able to _touch_ Bucky yet because of his own damn apprehensions, and there he is pretty much for the taking and he’s telling _sugar_ to get the cash to pay the delivery boy that he’s flirting with.

Then Steve recalls that Bucky is the biggest little shit. He is doing this on purpose, and it is working very, very well. Fine, two can play at that.

When Steve returns with the cash, the delivery boy’s asking if they both walk around naked all day. Steve takes the opportunity to claim his territory, slipping his arms around Bucky’s waist and feeling the muscles go taut under his touch. Good. He rests his chin on Bucky’s shoulder and says, “No homo, though.”

Bucky _almost_ laughs. “It’s very freeing,” he adds. “You should try it some time.”

Steve can tell by the nervous laugh and the blush on the delivery boy’s cheeks that Bucky is giving him some kind of look right now, so he tilts his head away a bit to look, and _fuck_.

“Keep the change,” Steve says quickly, and the delivery boy nods. Steve shuts the door on him before he can even walk away.

“Are you…” Bucky starts to ask, his voice dying in his throat when he turns around to watch Steve walking away from him. Bucky would like to put out a huge thank you to John Mulaney for being the voice that whispers “honky lil’ ass” in his head hauntingly. Bucky picks up the pizza and follows that thing all the way to the living room where it takes refuge in the couch. Bucky would follow that ass _anywhere_ , but Steve is divesting him. Bucky whines, putting the pizza on the coffee table.

“Aren’t you gonna put pants on?”

Steve shrugs. “I’m good with the apron.”

“And you’re just gonna deprive me of that…” Bucky starts weakly, mumbling the last few words.

“Aren’t _you_ gonna put pants on?” Steve asks when Bucky sits beside him, trying his best to keep his hands to himself.

“You’re the one that said no homo,” Bucky says, groaning as he reaches forward to open the box and get his food.

Steve does the same, then goes to grab the remote before Bucky smacks his hand away. “Excuse me?”

“My choice. All of Roswell is now on Netflix and we’re going to watch it.”

“What’s Roswell?” Steve asks. At least with the TV on there’s something to focus on other than Bucky in his full glory.

“Oh my god, Stevie,” Bucky mutters. Without further deliberation, Bucky starts the show.

Halfway into episode one, Bucky talks right over the dialogue. “Jesus, Max is so cute I just wanna,” he pauses, making a noise of pure frustration, “Ngh, just wanna fuck him.”

“Oh my _god_ Buck, thinking someone’s cute is a huge jump from wanting to fuck them,” Steve says, partly horrified.

Bucky looks Steve up and down, taking his time to lift his eyes from Steve’s lower body up to his eyes. “Not really, babe.” Bucky thinks the only accurate way to describe Steve’s reaction is to say that Steve blushes his lil’ tail feather right off. Bucky smiles triumphantly, shoving the last bit of crust into his mouth.

There’s only one slice left in the box. Technically, he probably has already eaten his half of the share, but it looks so _good_. Bucky stares at it longingly. Who the fuck orders only one pizza for the two of them? Normally Steve orders at least two, and right now he could fucking _use_ more. A whimper escapes from between his lips.

Steve inevitably notices, giving the box a thoughtful look before giving Bucky a sideways glance. “I’ll let you have the last slice if – ”

“I’ll blow you for the last slice,” Bucky blurts out.

Steve blinks, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. He wets his bottom lip. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Go for it.”

“I…” Bucky stumbles. “I… You have to let me digest for a bit afterwards, because even if you skimped out on the pizza today – which I don’t get at _all_ – there is still a high chance that I will throw up on your dick if you try to get me to do it straight away.”

“Gross,” Steve remarks, scrunching his nose. “Yeah, okay, a few conditions: I let you digest, I get to shower, and we both brush our teeth.”

“Sexy,” Bucky deadpans.

“You’re the one that put the image of you barfing all over my cock into my head, now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Bucky shrugs, seeing the reason in it. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight of Steve’s bare ass as he abandons him for the bathroom, and then the gravity of the situation hits him. Suddenly concentrating on anything remotely clean is very, very difficult.

***

Steve comes out of the shower about half an hour later looking positively _radiant._

“Okay that is just not fair,” Bucky mutters, scrambling off the sofa and following Steve into his bedroom. “No, no, you do not get to stand here looking all fresh and beautiful like a fucking Greek god when I look like an absolute pizza lovin’ _slob_.”

“You can shower if you want,” Steve purrs, turning away from Bucky to hide his smirk. “But that’ll just make the wait that much longer.”

Bucky gets the hint and is about to get on with it when Steve says in a warning tone, “Teeth. I didn’t brush mine just to taste dinner on you.”

Bucky groans and does as he’s told. He is so unbelievably frustrated, grumbling at himself in the mirror as he brushes his teeth.

_Fuckin’ Steve with his stupid ass and his stupid demands, and – wait a minute. Aren’t I the one that’s supposed to…_

Bucky spits out the toothpaste and rinses his mouth out, lifting his head to fix himself with a challenging gaze. If it’s a game Steve wants, it’s a game Steve gets.

When Bucky walks back into Steve’s room, he’s met with the sight of Steve splayed out on the sheets, one hand working his cock. Steve’s breath catches when he sees Bucky watching him with a predatory gaze. “It’s been a while, Barnes. You just gonna stand there and- and watch?”

Bucky shoots Steve what he hopes is a warning glare, but the fact that he has to unknot and toss aside Steve’s sweater that’s still wrapped around his hips kind of detracts from the seriousness of it. Once he’s gotten the final awkward barrier out of the way, Bucky takes a moment to appreciate how Steve looks, flushed but not quite as spent as Bucky would like to see him look right now. He figures he should take it as a challenge and steps closer to the bed, eyes never leaving Steve’s.

Bucky gets onto the bed and, on his way up Steve’s body, pries Steve’s hand off of himself and grabs his other wrist, pinning both above Steve’s head. Bucky feels dizzy with want, but even in his most frantic desperation he can’t bring himself to rush so much that he forgets to admire Steve, so he spends a few seconds tracing Steve’s flushed expression and committing it to memory, then leans down and presses a slow, hot kiss to Steve’s lips. He keeps it at that for a while, relenting when Steve’s tongue traces along the seam of his lips.

If he said he hasn’t wanted this from the day he met Steve, Bucky would be lying. Tasting Steve, something unique under the mint of the toothpaste, is something that Bucky has imagined too many times, only having gotten the chance to indulge as of late. Right now, though, when neither of them are holding back or worried about whether or not the other is ready, this is everything he’s imagined and more. Bucky lets out a sigh when he lets his body lower, Steve immediately arching to get the most contact. “Buck,” Steve groans, rutting up against him, trying to get the right angle to just – “Ahh.”

Bucky smirks into one last kiss before pulling away, ignoring Steve’s protests in favour of tasting Steve’s skin. He makes a trail from Steve’s jaw to his neck, then begins moving further down Steve’s chest until he quirks an eyebrow, looking up.

“What do you like?” Bucky asks, and somehow that’s all it takes for Steve’s blush to flare up. Bucky’s immediate response is to lean back up, leaving a few soft kisses behind Steve’s ear. “C’mon baby, you gotta tell me.”

A small whine escapes Steve’s throat, and he attempts to cover it up with his reply. “P-pretty much anything. I k-kind of really like where you’re headed right now with the whole cl-claiming me thing – _oh fuck_ ,” Steve groans, his mind scattering clear of any coherent thought when Bucky’s cock slides against his.

“Mm, and do we need a safe word?”

“Oh,” Steve gasps, still trying to gather his thoughts. “Jesus. N-not for tonight, yeah?”

Bucky pulls back to give Steve a quick reassuring smile. “Yeah. Nothin’ too much.”

Once Steve’s eyes seem to have cleared up enough for him to nod, Bucky grins and makes his way back down where he was before, stalling to graze his teeth along Steve’s neck, which earns him an obscene moan. “Ohh, yeah, fuck. That too.”

Bucky laughs warmly, repeating the action to feel Steve’s skin jump before pressing a soft kiss to the spot and moving along. He spends his time finding small erogenous zones, trying out different things to see what response Steve gives. So far he’s bitten along Steve’s collarbone, laved at Steve’s nipple, traced his tongue down the defined line of Steve’s abs, and sucked teasingly at Steve’s hip. Each thing has elicited a positive response from Steve, and Bucky is going heady with the thoughts of what they can do with all the time they have together.

“Oh, sugar,” Bucky hums, nuzzling at the base of Steve’s cock. Steve keens, urging Bucky to give him what he wants. “Oh, honey, I bet you taste so sweet, hmm?”

The resulting whine that Steve lets out is cut off by a gasp when he feels Bucky’s tongue lick a broad stripe up his cock, taking the head of it into his mouth and humming appreciatively. Steve lets his hands find their way into Bucky’s hair, groaning in despair when Bucky lifts off, fixing Steve with a heated gaze. “Didn’t say you could do that, did I? Keep them where I left them, Stevie.”

Steve bites his lip, using all the will power he has to draw his hands back up above his head as Bucky gets back to business. Bucky uses the cool digits of his left hand to work Steve’s cock while lapping patiently at the beads of precome leaking out of the tip. He hears Steve push out a deep breath and looks up, locking gazes with him. And really, Steve should know better than to play games with Bucky.

Bucky moves his hand away and takes Steve into his mouth as deep as he can, hollowing out his cheeks and revelling in the way Steve’s head drops back onto the pillow, eyes falling shut with ecstasy. “Oh, oh go- Buck, please,” Steve groans, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from getting too loud.

Bucky feels a bloom of victory in his chest and finds a renewed sense of motivation, tracing the cool metal of his left hand along Steve’s thigh and –

“Oh, fuck me!” Steve exclaims, the intrusion of Bucky’s finger unexpected and all too welcome. He’s too lost in pleasure to have noticed how loud that really was, but Bucky, well. He’s all ears.

Bucky pulls off, one eyebrow raised. “Oh sugar, is that what you want, huh?”

Steve nods and bites his lip harder, trying to keep himself from being any louder than he’s already been. “Y-yeah, Buck, please,” Steve whispers, lifting his head to look down at Bucky settled between his legs. Steve’s certain that there are no words that could ever do this view justice.

Bucky’s expression hardens, and Steve’s heart skips a beat. “Well tough. You think I wouldn’t pick up on your little game, huh, sugar? You ordered less dinner for the two of us because you were expecting this, weren’t you?” Bucky keeps going, his voice dropping lower. Steve stretches himself out beneath Bucky, probably trying to make Bucky break. It almost works, but Bucky’s resolve is stronger than that, especially if it means he’ll be able to see Steve fall apart.

“Well, I guess now you’ll have to deal with the consequences,” Bucky drawls, purposefully echoing Steve’s words in the most patronizing tone he can manage.

Steve groans, dropping his head repeatedly onto the pillow under his head with little thumps. Bucky smiles, kissing along the joint of Steve’s hip and thigh, taking his time to go further. Knowing exactly what Steve wants, Bucky deprives him and uses his flesh and blood hand to stroke Steve’s cock. (Hey, no one can say Bucky leaves a guy hanging.)

Steve’s thinking about very few things at once, one of them being how stupid he was to think Bucky wouldn’t pick up, because it was damn obvious what he was doing earlier.

By now Steve should know better than to let his mind wander even the slightest, because Bucky’s a tricky motherfucker and always finds a way to be sneaky about something that should be really obvious. He’s got Steve’s legs pushed up, lifting Steve’s ass off the bed slightly so he can spread Steve open and trace his tongue around Steve’s hole. Before Steve can even react, Bucky backs off with a sharp laugh. “Ohhh, sugar. I should’ve known you cleaned yourself up for me. That’s why you wanted to go for that shower, huh? But you couldn’t have known I would do this, not when you didn’t want to tell me what you want. Must want it something bad, ain’t that right, Stevie? Too shy to say it, though.”

Steve’s head rolls to one side, and he takes a moment to try and form some kind of sentence. He lifts his head to give Bucky a challenging glare, his voice breathy when he says, “God, please, just get the fuck on with it.”

“With what, Stevie?” Bucky asks coolly.

Steve clenches his jaw, fisting the sheets to avoid from shoving Bucky’s head between his legs.

“Say it. You want it that bad, I need to _hear_ it.”

Trying to retain a shred of dignity while keeping his attitude, Steve snaps, “Eat ass, Barnes.”

Bucky tuts, shaking his head and tilting it to the side to give Steve a pitying look. “Have to be nicer than that, Rogers.”

Steve levels Bucky with an incredulous glare, then clears his throat and says, “Please, Bucky, eat my fucking ass.”

Bucky smirks, deciding that’s about as good as he’ll get and wetting his bottom lip before he drops his head back between Steve’s thighs. He tests the waters to watch for Steve’s reaction again, teasing by trailing his tongue from behind Steve’s balls all the way along his perineum, pulling right back before he gets where Steve wants him and humming admiringly when he sees Steve’s ass clench with frustration.

Deciding he shouldn’t test Steve’s patience any further today, Bucky drags his tongue over Steve’s asshole, spreading him apart wider until he can settle there, tongue circling the rim and laving insatiably. Bucky groans when he pushes his tongue in, suddenly hit with the image of Steve working himself open in the shower, cleaning himself out for Bucky. It certainly makes this whole deal easier and a lot more pleasant, but the next time Steve wants to do that, Bucky’s going to be there to watch.

Steve moves his hands up to grip onto the headboard, trying hard to resist his urge to scratch up Bucky’s shoulders as he works him open with his tongue, warm and intrusive in all the right ways. Yeah, okay, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t clean up just for this, but he wasn’t about to ask it of Bucky if Bucky wasn’t willing. Steve had done it out of his hopefulness, not having actually expected Bucky to willingly be where he is right now, driving Steve mad as he curls his tongue along Steve’s insides.

Steve’s pretty back arches right off the bed when Bucky makes use of Steve’s weakness and brings his left hand to join his mouth, pressing in to assist in stretching Steve open.

“Oh god, that’s so good,” Steve breathes. He drops back flat onto the bed, thighs quivering around Bucky and holding him in place. “Please, please, baby, keep going,” Steve mutters, rolling his hips up to meet Bucky’s all too eager mouth.

Much to Steve’s disappointment, Bucky presses one last kiss to his entrance before mumbling into Steve’s thigh, “It’s actually a good thing you got yourself ready before because it makes it so much easier to – ” Bucky cuts off, supposing it’d be better for him to demonstrate rather than speak. He adds a second finger in with little resistance, biting at Steve’s hip demandingly. “You got stuff?”

Steve huffs a laugh, letting his entire body relax under Bucky’s attention. “Even if I didn’t it’d take a lot to keep me from begging you to fuck me right now. But yeah, just over th-”

Bucky shoots up to seal Steve’s lips with a quick kiss before he scrambles over to the bedside, scouring through notes and used up pens before he finds the lube and a condom.

“Good,” Bucky notes. He squeezes some lube onto his fingers and climbs back on top of Steve, pausing to get in a slow, well-deserved kiss. Steve, again with his guard down, doesn’t notice Bucky’s doing anything beyond showering him with ardent kisses until he feels Bucky’s fingers against his ass, slowly pushing in. Steve groans into Bucky’s mouth and brings a hand to the back of Bucky’s neck, keeping him there as Bucky starts fucking Steve with his fingers, slowing only to add a third.

Steve drops his head back onto the pillow, breathing heavily. Bucky takes the chance to taste the sweat on Steve’s neck, timing the second he bites at Steve’s sensitive spot with the moment he makes his fingers start vibrating inside Steve.

“Holy sh-” Steve shouts, his words dissolving into a moan. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot you could do that at a time like this. Fuck.”

Bucky smiles wickedly and moves back up to kiss Steve, pumping his fingers into Steve at a cruelly slow pace, rolling his hips in time with each thrust so Steve can at least find purchase in the smooth glide of their cocks against each other.

It’s bad enough that the sensation of Bucky’s fingers are making lights flash behind Steve’s eyelids, but then Bucky goes and brushes his fingers against Steve’s prostate, and Steve has so little control that he bites Bucky’s lip in his shock.

“Oh, oh g- Buck, I swear if you don’t get inside me right now this’ll be done too fast and it’ll be all your fault,” Steve warns, and Bucky immediately pulls his fingers out, shushing Steve and placating him with a few soft kisses along the blush that’s running from Steve’s cheeks all the way down his body.

Steve lets himself breathe for as long as it takes for Bucky to put on a condom and slick himself up, not trusting his stamina to last if he watches Bucky touching himself right now.

Once Bucky’s hovering back over top of Steve, Steve can’t help but give him a small, sappy smile, just out of habit. Bucky frowns and gives Steve a peck on the nose. “No fair,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of secret. “You’re not allowed to be adorable when I’m about to fuck you.”

Steve laughs, forgetting momentarily about the desperation running through him when Bucky smiles back down at him, giving him a sweet kiss and then nuzzling Steve’s neck for a moment. “Alright, enough cheesy shit. Back to the schedule, Cap.”

Steve nods, chuckling once more before Bucky shuts him up with a heated kiss, lining himself up and pausing when Steve feels the blunt end of Bucky’s cock pressing against him. “You good?” Bucky asks, and Steve nodding is all it takes for Bucky to roll his hips forward and into Steve, taking it slow until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Good,” Steve whispers again, tilting his head up to kiss Bucky. “So good.” It burns a bit, but only in the pleasurable way he knows to expect, the type that wanes once Bucky starts pulling out. It feels good, the drag of Bucky’s cock inside of him, the way Bucky breathes hotly against Steve’s neck, breath shaking like he’s just as close as Steve.

“Gonna make you feel so good, Stevie,” Bucky mutters, kissing behind Steve’s ear as he shifts the angle of his hips and jerks his hips, Steve letting out a short whimper at the change. “That it, sugar?” Steve whines and nods, following the draw of Bucky’s body to chase that feeling again.

Bucky drops his head to bite at Steve’s earlobe, then gives a sharp thrust before he starts talking. “You probably had this whole night planned out, didn’t you, sugar? Thought you had it all in the palm of your hand and that I’d lick it right up, ain’t that right? Gosh, but listen to you now, Stevie,” Bucky mutters, pausing to appreciate the sound that leaves Steve’s lips when he brushes against his prostate again. “You’re so far gone,” Bucky continues, his voice breathy but still holding the edge it had before.

“Oh, if only they knew at your work what you’re like when you’re getting fucked. They’d make you take it every night just for the sweet noises you make. But I bet they don’t know, do they?” Bucky asks, and Steve shakes his head quickly, feeling it necessary to assure Bucky that very few people know what Steve sounds like when he’s being fucked, and even less who know what he sounds like when he’s this torn.

“Mmm,” Bucky hums, smiling softly as he gives a slow roll of his hips. “Oh baby, I know you said you don’t get turned on at work but just listenin’ to you now it’s pretty clear there has to have been a few – ” Bucky pauses, smiling against Steve’s skin when he hears a sharp gasp – “times, right, honey? A few patrons that you actually _wanted_ to get on your knees for, huh?” Steve doesn’t reply, biting his lip hard as Bucky starts fucking him deeper. “Tell me, Stevie.”

Steve opens his eyes, surprised to see Bucky’s own face so close to his, eyes boring into him. His skin is prickling with the feeling that Bucky’s words are giving him, trying but not able to recall an exact time when he felt that way for a customer, not when Bucky’s moving inside of him the way he is. Steve barely nods, but it’s enough for Bucky to get the idea.

Bucky pulls out and slams back in, making Steve groan louder than he has all night, his hands flying up to grab onto Bucky’s shoulders. “Well, baby,” Bucky mutters, low and only for Steve’s ears, “I’m gonna make you forget all about those.”

Steve groans, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Bucky claims Steve, fucking him harder and faster, kissing him until he has no breath left to give.

“God, you’re so – Stevie, I’ve wanted to fuck you like this so bad and, oh - ” he cuts off, feeling Steve clench around him when he pushes back to meet every one of Bucky’s thrusts. “Ever sin-since you put that pretty little mouth of yours on my cock I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, Steve, I tried, but you…” Bucky trails off, stopping his rambling in favour of kissing Steve, wedging one hand – the left one, because Bucky knows Steve has a thing for it – between them to start jerking Steve off. Steve whimpers into Bucky’s mouth, his cock having been neglected for too long. He arches up and starts meeting Bucky’s thrusts with more impatience, both of them in a heady rush to get off.

Bucky shifts slightly, getting back the right angle from before where he hits Steve’s prostate on every other thrust, the room filling with sounds of skin on skin, peppered with Steve’s delicious sounds.

“M’close,” Steve pants, running his nails down Bucky’s back as he feels his orgasm nearing. “Buck, please, God, m’all yours, just keep,” Steve stammers, his groans getting louder as Bucky amplifies the pleasure spreading through his body.

“Me too, Steve. I got you, yeah?” Bucky gives Steve a quick kiss before pulling back a bit, urging Steve to pull his legs in closer so that Bucky can fuck him better. Steve whimpers and grabs Bucky by the back of his neck, missing his taste and needing every bit of contact he can get. Bucky slips a bit, pressing in deeper than both of them meant for and making both of them moan into each other’s mouths.

Bucky kisses a corner of Steve’s mouth. “C’mon, Stevie, I’m nearly there. Come for me,” Bucky whispers, licking the roof of Steve’s mouth and feeling every inch of Steve’s body freeze as he comes, walls clenching around Bucky’s cock. Steve shudders as his orgasm runs through him, bucking his hips up to get the most of it. Bucky’s only eager to please, fucking Steve through his pleasure until he feels his own purchase, Steve’s ass tight and hot around him, bringing him over the edge. He thinks he cries out Steve’s name when he comes, but he can’t be sure with the way his body feels electrified, ears ringing as he thrusts into Steve a few more times.

When Bucky finally drapes himself over Steve, Steve gladly wraps his arms around him, kissing Bucky’s shoulder and trailing his fingers along Bucky’s back. They stay like that a while, their heavy breathing slowly going back to normal as their skin relaxes.

Steve hesitates, then says, “You… you brought up me getting turned on by patrons, but that hasn’t happened for a long, _long_ time. I mean, if you exclude the time when I gave you a lap dance and had to tune out to stop myself from… well. Yeah, just you.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, and Steve can’t see his expression with the way he’s got his head tucked into the space by Steve’s neck.

“Mm, gotta,” Bucky murmurs, cringing for Steve’s sake as he slips out. “I’ll be right back,” he assures, and when he pulls back Steve can see a huge grin on his face, right before he gives Steve a huge smack on the cheek. Steve blushes, watching with a smile as Bucky leaves.

Bucky comes back with a damp washcloth, practically skipping with some renewed energy that leaves Steve baffled. “How are you not feeling half wrecked after that?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “Rekt. Haha. Biggy Rekt. Ohhh, oh yeah that name fuckin suits you.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, swatting at Bucky as he wipes the come off of his stomach. Steve scrunches his nose, but endures as Bucky cleans both of them up.

“C’mon,” Bucky says, putting out a hand for Steve to take. “My bed.”

“Really?” Steve groans. “I don’t have the energy.”

“I ain’t sleeping in this thing, I have to wash the sheets.” Steve groans in protest, so Bucky just comes in closer and wriggles his arms underneath Steve, lifting him up bridal style. Steve yelps, hiding his red face in Bucky’s neck and nagging at him to put him down, but Bucky just grins as he carries him to his room.

“Fresh sheets,” he says triumphantly, dropping Steve onto the bed and clambering over him to get to the other side. “Come on, keep me warm,” Bucky coos, stretching his arms out. Steve does as he’s told, shuffling closer until Bucky curls up against him, resting his head on Steve’s chest and pulling the blanket over them both.

“Mmm,” Bucky mutters into Steve’s skin. “You’ve got the best resting heartbeat I’ve ever heard.”

“Dermatologists hate me,” Steve replies, earning a surprised giggle from Bucky. Bucky squirms against Steve, smiling about as big as he can, his chest barely containing the confession he wants to admit right that second. Instead of giving in to the temptation, Bucky gives a playful bite at Steve’s nipple, then pats it to make it better, and says goodnight.

“G’night, Buck. You ass.”

“Mm, but you love it,” Bucky slurs, half aware that he _just_ saved his own ass by the slight difference in words. It’s not long before Bucky drifts off into sleep, his burst of energy having fizzled out.

“That I do,” Steve whispers, squeezing Bucky lightly. “That I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol. Sorry. Peace out and if you haven't already drop by [dorkbait's](dorkbait.tumblr.com) tumblr and check out some sick sick art B) 
> 
> High five to smut for extending the word count of any chapter ever


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So uh. Don't hate me! I have a very good reason for being this late to update! I had to travel to a time zone completely opposite of mine to attend my sibling's wedding in a very time crunched trip and jet lag and stress and packing and unpacking has consumed me whole. I am so close to finishing this, and the moment I get the go ahead you'll get it all. Anyway, enough of that! Read onwards. -G
> 
> Cautions at the end of the chapter

“Morning,” Steve mumbles, smiling down at Bucky. Bucky grumbles, still half asleep, and clings to Steve more. Steve laughs and stretches, wincing a little before settling back down and wrapping his arms around Bucky. “You know we have to get up. You have work, and I need to clean.”

“Gross,” Bucky replies, voice muffled against Steve’s chest. He snuggles against Steve and sighs contentedly. Steve allows it for another minute, but the pure cosiness of Bucky starts coaxing him back into the realm of sleep, Steve moves to pull away. “Nngh,” Bucky slurs. “You know, for saying bodies are lumpy – especially _yours_ – and cuddling is rarely actually as comfortable as people make it out to be, I don’t think I’ve ever felt comfier.”

Maybe Bucky’s sappy seductions would work better at keeping Steve in bed if Steve was sleepier, but luckily for the both of them he’s alert enough to push Bucky off of him, consequently rolling onto his front. Bucky, suddenly about as awake as he only ever is with a full pot of coffee in him, jumps up before Steve can get up off the bed and straddles the backs of Steve’s thighs, humming as he leans forward and starts rolling his bare hips against Steve’s ass.

“Buck,” Steve whines impatiently. “Buck, get up, you don’t have time for this. You’re gonna be late as it is.”

“It’ll be worth it, though,” Bucky argues, smirking before sinking his teeth into Steve’s shoulder.

“Marks,” Steve whispers sharply. “If I have marks they’ll get bothered at work. I have a shift tonight.”

Bucky pulls back with a frown. “How else am I supposed to establish dominance and let everyone know you’re mine?”

Steve lifts his head off the pillow and looks over his shoulder at Bucky. “Really?”

Bucky shrugs. “What? It’s true. But fine. What about the stuff from last night?”

“That didn’t leave any – ” Steve cuts off, lifting himself up a bit to assess his skin, and _oh_. Steve groans, flopping back onto the bed and letting Bucky have his way, kissing the back of his neck and using a hand to knead Steve’s ass.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, not sounding sorry in the least.

“Mmph,” replies Steve.

“You got some makeup to cover that up? S’not my worst – best – work; you could still hide it.”

“Don’t wanna,” Steve groans blearily, mind too busy focusing on the feeling of Bucky’s cock hardening against him to speak sensibly. He lifts his head a second later. “I mean, yeah I – I could do that, or just not go.”

“Aww, no honey, can’t let you do that. You have to go to work, and besides,” Bucky drawls, brushing Steve’s hair aside so he can nip at Steve’s earlobe. “At least I know you won’t be able to stop _thinking_ about me when you’re makin’ Jenny drool over you.”

Steve snorts, turning his head to show Bucky his raised eyebrow. “Jenny?”

Bucky narrows his eyes, lifting his hips enough to give Steve’s ass a terse smack. Steve lets out a little yelp that dissolves into a moan, demanding more as he presses back towards Bucky. “Doesn’t matter what their name is,” Bucky continues. “There’s only one that matters, ain’t that right?”

“Thor with the big dick?” Steve jokes.

Bucky pulls back looking greatly affronted. “Thor went to your work?”

Steve laughs, his shoulders shaking with the sound. “Nah, I’m just messing around. He _did_ seem pretty well endowed though, that you gotta admit.”

“Endowed,” Bucky comments dramatically. “Only a fucking writer would use that kind of politically correct language.”

“In my defence I called it a big dick first, so,” Steve retaliates.

“ _In your defence_ ,” Bucky mimics, “you shouldn’t have brought that up in the first place because now I feel insecure about the size of my dick,” he whines. Steve laughs again, wiggling until Bucky relents and gets off of Steve, rolling onto his back. Steve smiles lopsidedly, gladly settling atop Bucky with a knee on either side of Bucky’s hips.

“Aw, Buck, it’s okay. You shouldn’t feel bad, you fill me up just fine,” Steve coos.

Bucky scowls, turning his face away when Steve leans down in attempt to kiss him. “Just fine,” Bucky grumbles. Steve grins, cupping Bucky’s face in his hands and laughing softly as he kisses Bucky. Bucky just about melts, not being able to hold up his faux anxiety and irritation even if he tried. God, the things Steve does to his heart. He slides his hands up Steve’s sides to hold him in place, enjoying the exchange of slow, lazy kisses.

“You have work,” Steve reminds him, “so this has to be quick.” Without any further warning, Steve goes down on Bucky.

True to his word, Steve makes Bucky come embarrassingly fast, just in time to be acceptably late.

***

Bucky’s spaced out at work, distracted by the thought of the scratch marks Steve unintentionally left on Bucky’s back from the night before. He only noticed them later that morning when Steve finally got him to go to the bathroom and take a shower, and when he asked Steve about it he just looked at the floor and mumbled something, cheeks turning pink. Bucky thought it was utterly adorable, so naturally he dragged Steve into the shower and fucked him before actually getting ready for work.

Bucky’s cheeks are heating at the memory.

“Helloooo, earth to Bucky,” Sarah calls, waving her hand in front of Bucky’s face.

Bucky blinks rapidly, standing up straight and looking around quickly to make sure there aren’t any customers he’s been ignoring.

“Wow, you’re out of it. Everything okay? You were in late today,” Sarah says, her concern too thoughtful to condone the short laugh Bucky lets out.

“Yeah, fine. Just… my alarm didn’t go off,” he says as an excuse.

Sarah nods understandingly. “Can’t blame you. If my alarm didn’t go off I’d probably sleep into midday of tomorrow.”

“Hah, yeah.” Bucky excuses himself to the break room for a quick sip of water, and when he comes back Sarah’s occupied with a hefty middle aged man. Bucky gives the guy a wary look, knowing that the female staff has received some shit customer attention from time to time. He knows Sarah can handle her own, but he’ll still keep an eye out if need be.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Bucky spins around on his foot to find Steve standing right in front of him, shit eating grin on his face. Bucky outright groans, walking away from Steve to go fix up the costume jewellery displays. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Steve frowns, following behind Bucky. “Wow, that’s some reception. Thought you’d be glad to see the guy you risked your job for this morning.”

Bucky huffs at the pair of earrings that drop to the floor, trying to look dignified as he bends over to pick them up. “It’s not the first time I’ve been late, believe it or not. All I have to do is tell them my shoulder hurts and no one says a word. Don’t pull it more times than I have to, though.” When he turns back to Steve after having placed the set back on the rack, Bucky flushes. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Hard to… not think about you when work’s slow. You popping up here doesn’t exactly make it any easier.”

Steve smiles quickly, then gives Bucky his best ‘I mean business’ look. “It’s okay, I’m not here to reduce you to a blabbering mess who can’t help but call me pet names. My boss shot me a message to remind me of something, and I told him I know someone who works at a department store.”

“What business does a strip club have with a place like Nordstrom’s?” Bucky asks, eyebrow raised.

Steve smiles sweetly in the way that Bucky has learnt the hard way means nothing but trouble. “The owners have been talking about a theme night, and he wanted me to check out some material for them.”

“Material?” Bucky asks, stomach dropping as he speculates where this is headed.

“Lingerie,” Steve says nonchalantly. Bucky wants to gouge his eyes out. Steve is trying to make him lose his job.

“Surely we wouldn’t have anything to fit your needs; a place like yours would need something more provocative, right?”

Steve shakes his head looking contemplative. “We’re looking for some more ordinary things. Lace, garters, that kind of stuff. Something more tasteful and unexpected for a strip club.”

“Really. Here,” Bucky deadpans. Steve smiles and nods. “You’re the fucking worst,” Bucky mutters under his breath. “Well, unfortunately I’m not the best with that section, so I’ll have to pass you off to…” Bucky trails off. The only other person on shift nearby is Sarah. Despite the fact that she’s busy, Bucky doesn’t want Steve trotting around panties and bras with her. Especially not after… He pastes on his best client-pleasing smile and says, “Of course, sir. Right this way.”

Bucky leads Steve to the lingerie section, and all he’s trying to do is keep a straight face; he does _not_ need to pop a boner like a fucking teenager when there’s rumour that the regional manager is going to be doing rounds at any time this week.

Once they’re there, Steve hums thoughtfully, not even batting an eye as Bucky grumbles off to one side. He checks the fabric of a few, runs his finger along the lace before turning to say something to Bucky.

There’s a middle-aged woman looking right his way, the dirtiest scowl on her face. Steve feels guilty for all of zero seconds, and when he makes it clear he’s not going to leave, she chooses to be the one to do the honours instead, stomping away from the scene of the crime. _Kink-shamer_ , Steve thinks jokingly. God, Bucky is getting into his head.

“She’s just mad she ain’t the one hittin’ that,” Bucky comments, looking pointedly at Steve’s ass.

“Hah. Ooh, hey,” Steve mutters, picking up a pair of panties and assessing them. Bucky’s face flushes. And then Steve makes a move to try it on over his clothes and Bucky’s about to hiss at him to _not do that here_ , but the pair gets stuck about halfway up his calf. Bucky bursts out laughing, and Steve grins like he’s won the whole damn world. When Bucky’s done keeling over and wiping his eyes dry, he looks back to find that Steve has a second pair on the other leg, stuck in the same place.

“Th-” Bucky wheezes, “that’s the fucking smallest size you could find, isn’t it?”

Steve nods, his smile widening impossibly. He bends over to take them off and put them back, double-checking with a sincere, admirable and also laughable amount of concern to make sure he hasn’t stretched them.

“Hmm.” Steve moves further down the table and picks up a hot pink pair of hipsters. “I kinda like these,” Steve contemplates.

Bucky scoffs. “They won’t fit.”

Steve frowns, putting the panties to his hips and stretching them a bit, and they’re definitely nowhere near large enough.

“You’re lucky we’re one of the few stores that carries the good shit in your size; your waist is fucking huge,” Bucky mumbles. He narrows his eyes and grabs the material of pink pantie hanging in front of Steve’s dick. “Yep, this won’t fit, either.”

Steve chuckles while Bucky goes off to find a measuring tape, coming back with the most serious look on his face as he runs it between his hands.

Bucky says something intelligible before getting alarmingly close to Steve, looping his arms around Steve’s waist to get the tape through. Steve squeaks, smiling down at Bucky. “33. You’re gettin’ in a…” Bucky pauses, looking over at one of the shelves nearby to check a sizing chart, “a 16? Best case scenario.”

“Hmm. What about garters?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “What about ‘em?”

“Carry my size?” Steve tries. Bucky narrows his eyes, then drops down into a squat at Steve’s feet, aware of exactly where he is with respect to Steve’s body.

He wraps the tape around Steve’s thighs in a couple of places to check if they’ll accommodate for what the store has to offer.

Steve snorts, and Bucky rolls his eyes pre-emptively, knowing exactly what’s coming.

“What about my dick?”

Bucky looks up, catching Steve’s heated gaze that’s hiding behind his dorky smile. Bucky dead legs Steve before standing up, an innocent smile pasted on his face. “Don’t need a tape measure for that, Steve. It’s about as long as you’ll have to live if you keep this shit up. I’m working. You’re not actually buying anything, and we’ve had this issue before.”

Steve pouts. “Aw, c’mon. No one’s here right now, it’s pretty much dead. And besides, I’m here on business.”

“Uhuh. Sure you are. Measuring you for a garter won’t do the club any good.”

Steve tilts his head up challengingly. “It’s a strip club. They’re expecting the men in this kinda stuff too, alright?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. Even if his excuse was remotely plausible, Nordstrom carries things that are far too conventional, even if the club _does_ want something more reputable than their usual stuff. Nordstrom lingerie isn’t exactly high class and sexy; if they want that they should be looking at Victoria’s Secret or one of those ‘ _Love Boutiques.’_ And that bull about Steve knowing someone won’t pull when Bucky tries to convince his boss to give The Peacock a discount on bulk merchandise.

So why is Steve being so serious about actually finding something?

With a fair amount of bickering, Bucky manages to slip away from Steve (much to his heart’s despair, Bucky thinks with a roll of his eyes), heading back to deal with a small wave of old ladies. Always old ladies.

By the time he’s done with them, Steve’s lingering in the background, waiting for Bucky to be free so he can come talk to him. The little glances Steve throws his way makes Bucky’s weak heart skitter.

Then Steve walks out from behind a rack of shirts and Bucky sees what’s in his hand. A pair of black lace panties and the matching garter.

“Holy shit,” Bucky exhales. He presses his legs together and looks up at the ceiling, counting backwards from fifty.

“Hey,” Steve says before Bucky can even reach forty, all full of charm and oozing with affection. Bucky bites his lip and fails to retain a whimper.

“Hey.”

“Ring these through for me, will you?”

Bucky blinks a couple of times. “You’re – you’re actually buying…”

Steve nods, already searching through his wallet. Bucky makes a noise in the back of his throat and does as he’s told, quickly applying his employee discount before Steve can notice. If he looks closely at the receipt he’ll see the difference, but that’s something they can deal with later.

Bucky grabs a bag from under the desk and mutters his customary ‘thank you have a good day’ out of habit. Steve doesn’t even bother trying to hide how endearing he finds that.

“C’mere,” Steve whispers, leaning partway across the counter. Bucky frowns, then glances around the floor. There’s no one around anymore, so he meets Steve halfway and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “Mmm, I – You’re sweet,” Steve stumbles.

“Sweet as honey?” Bucky rebounds, biting his lip to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

Steve hums, his eyes falling shut for a second. “Sweeter.”

“PDA in the office? My, oh my,” Sarah cuts in, and both of the boys pull back immediately. Bucky smiles ruefully while Steve rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks already turning a satisfying pink.

Bucky rounds the counter to join her and Steve, standing close to get some of Steve’s soft, warm touches while he can.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt, I’d love to see you two make the glass cabinets all steamy,” she teases. Bucky does a little puppy scowl that makes Steve chuckle before resting a hand on Bucky’s hip.

“Nuh uh, this one is mine. On display for J.B. Barnes only,” Bucky replies sharply, stammering when he realizes what he just said. “I – sorry?”

Sarah laughs, in which time Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist, hooking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. “You look great in that shirt, by the way. Forgot to mention,” Steve whispers.

Bucky scrunches his nose, melting into Steve’s touch and at the sound of his voice.

When Steve leaves, Bucky gets disheartened a bit, though he’ll swear he doesn’t. And maybe, maybe just this once, being alike to a teenager isn’t the worst when it comes to Steve. If it means he feels ridiculously happy, there’s probably nothing worth regretting, anyway.

***

**Steve Rogers:** _Can I ask you a favor?_

**Romanoff:** _So long as it doesn’t involve a ménage a trois, I’m all ears._

***

Bucky comes home from his shift with his heart light and fluttery. He pulls up onto the curb outside the building and walks down the block to the nearest Starbucks, orders a couple of drinks, and walks back feeling giddy.

“Steve?” Bucky calls when he gets in the apartment. Steve’s got work later, but they have a couple hours together before he has to leave.

“Here,” Steve replies, hand spiking up from the couch. Bucky sets the drinks aside so he can put his bag down and wash his hands, then gets to Steve with the drinks. “Aw, Buck,” he coos after sitting up, “you shouldn’t have.” Despite it, he makes grabby hands and takes a sip, sighing with bliss.

Bucky tucks his knees under his bum on the couch and gets as close as he can to Steve without making it impossible for them to finish their coffees.

“Wait,” Steve says halfway through, breaking the companionable silence. “Your cup says Steve.” Steve turns his own cup around to find his name staring back at him. “My cup says Steve. Buck, did you tell them your name is my name?”

Bucky flushes. He didn’t expect Steve would’ve noticed. He hides his face between Steve’s shoulder and the back of the sofa while Steve laughs warmly.

“Takin’ my name already, huh?”

“You already said yes to the proposal,” Bucky replies, voice muffled by the couch.

“Uhuh, and _you_ threw out the ring.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, sitting up straight. His eyebrows draw together, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Well, fuck.”

Steve makes a noise and pulls Bucky’s head onto his shoulder, pressing a kiss into his hair. “It’s okay, you can get me another one one day.”

Bucky doesn’t know how he manages to not spontaneously combust, but thankfully he doesn’t. He thinks wants to be able to get to that day with Steve, this time for real. Maybe it’s a little early to say that, but he’s known Steve for a while now, and he knows that he loves him. So, without thinking too far ahead, Bucky will settle with that for now.

“You’d want that?” Bucky asks. He was thinking it without intention of really asking, but his mouth tends to run a lot around Steve.

Steve doesn’t answer for a moment, finishing his drink and setting it on the table. He turns so he can hold Bucky in both arms. “I don’t know. Maybe. I… Yeah, I don’t know. I wouldn’t say no to the possibility, if that’s anything.”

And it is; it’s _everything_.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Us. Like that.”

“Steve I ate your ass out like there’s no tomorrow, saying _married_ is no taboo. But I’d say I’m on the same boat as you,” he lies. Inside, Bucky’s full of naïve hope. What he doesn’t know is that Steve is refraining from admitting the exact same thing.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve says quietly, pulling back to look Bucky in the eye. Steve chews on his lip nervously, then sniffles a bit. “You… I have a knack of bringing bad things up at the best moment and ruining said best moment. So I apologize for bringing this up, but – You know what? Forget it, I can get back to it another time.”

Bucky’s eyebrows draw in close, and he assesses Steve’s body language. He seems cautious, like whatever he wants to say might break something bigger. “Steve,” Bucky says softly. He takes Steve’s hands in his own and runs his thumbs over Steve’s knuckles, squeezing lightly. “It’s alright, your timing is fine. What do you want to say?”

“You… Remember that time I did the thing at your… your work. With… You know. Sarah.” Bucky winces unwillingly, the memory causing the stale bitterness to swell from somewhere in the back of his mind. “God, I knew it, I should just k-”

“Steve, you can’t take every immediate reaction I have to what you say as my total response, just hang on. Yeah, it – it wasn’t the best thing to bring up, but if it’s bothering you, then,” Bucky says, shrugging awkwardly, feeling wary about why Steve wants to talk about it, “get it off your chest.”

Steve shuffles, twisting his wrists until he’s holding Bucky’s hands inside of his own, rather than the other way around. “I’m sorry. And before you try and stop me and say it’s okay, let me finish. It didn’t matter as much before, maybe, but now that we’re together I need to say this. It did… sit in my conscience for a while. Natasha spoke to me, and she mentioned… Forgetting that the situation was pretty unsavoury on my part, I did that to you in a place where you go almost every day. I didn’t really think then, and if I did I couldn’t explain to you what I was thinking. It seemed to make sense then in a way that… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Bucky doesn’t look quite so comfortable, but at the same time he’s at least trying to smile, and inside he’s feeling a lot more gratitude than he’s showing. “Is that why you were draped all over me in front of Sarah today? Because that’s kind of low back at her, even though I know she’s probably not in the least bit bothered because she’s just glad to know two of the hottest guys she knows are banging each other.”

“It was not a low blow and it was _not_ because of that. In fact, it was my supportive response to you being possessive of me and mildly aggressive towards her.”

“I was _not_ ,” Bucky starts, squinting at Steve and scowling. “Maybe a tiny bit, but it was warranted, okay?”

Steve eyes Bucky, keeping up the gaze long enough for Bucky to whine and pull away from Steve’s hands so he can punch him. “Fine, fine,” Steve concedes, grabbing Bucky’s hands before they can assault him and pulling Bucky in for a quick kiss. “I’m sorry for bringing that up,” he whispers, forehead resting against Bucky’s, “But I needed to clear the air. B-” Steve sighs, lifting a corner of his mouth in a short-lived smile. “Because if you’re in this, then you need to know I’m in it too.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks hopefully, something flourishing within him that he’s been holding back for a while, the same something that urged him to reach out to Steve every time he wanted to before it became okay. Steve nods.

 _Good_ , is all Bucky can think before he tilts his head forward to close the gap between their mouths, feeling anew the sweet taste of Steve’s mouth.

***

**Toe knee:** _Congrats!_

**Bucky Barnes:** _… how do u kno._

**Toe knee:** _Pepper had a “feeling”_

**Toe knee:** _Also you haven’t texted me about your crisis so I can only image you two are practicing the habits of rabbits._

**Toe knee:** _Haha. It rhymes._

**Bucky Barnes:** _good job u have the literary skills of a toddler_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of the events spanning chapters 13-15, some humping
> 
> awkward forced smile hope it was okay the morning lazy hump was my fave bit lmao


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to your second last chapter, folks. Sorry? I'm... really not confident about these despite it all and I hope it's somewhat decent to read? Playlist is lacking the artwork I had hoped to couple with it but I'll wait till the last chapter to share that, and after the final update keep your eyes peeled for a couple extras :*

It’s after dinner one night when Steve has his head in Bucky’s lap as they feign paying attention to some Oscar nominated movie that Steve’s phone rings. Bucky frowns at the interruption.

“Nnngh,” Steve groans, “You pick it up.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and leans over to pick Steve’s phone up off the table, catching Tony’s name on the caller ID.

“Hello, this is Steve Rogers’ phone may I ask who’s calling?” Bucky says, assuming his best secretary voice. He flinches when Steve swats half-heartedly at him, shushing Steve and grinning.

“Hey shitrocket,” Tony replies.

“How are you doing, furled asshole?” Bucky quips, smiling wider when Steve groans with dismay.

“Nah, nope, not today. I didn’t call to talk to you; pass it on to Steve.”

“And may I ask what this call is regarding?”

Tony’s sigh carries through the line. “It’s about Steve’s job.”

“Steve Jobs? I’m sorry sir, but he passed away, very unfortunate indeed,” Bucky says solemnly. Steve is looking at him incredulously, but it’s hard to conceal the unabashed affection he’s harbouring for Bucky.

“Bucky shut the fuck up and pass the phone to Steve.”

“Rude,” Bucky mutters, sounding but not feeling hurt. He knows Tony won’t say sorry later, because they both know it’ll just be awkward if he does. They nag each other all the time; this isn’t anything new.

Steve takes the phone from Bucky, not bothering to sit up. “Hey Tony, what’s up?”

Tony, apparently in no mood to waste any time, says, “How would you feel about relocating strip clubs?”

“… You know?”

“Of course I know,” Tony replies, like it’s the most absurd implication Steve has ever suggested, “I mean asides from the fact that Bucky can’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him – ”

“I can hear you, Tony!” Bucky yells, too loudly considering that he’s close enough for the phone to pick it up. Steve pouts and nudges Bucky’s stomach with his nose.

“Good!” Tony replies, adding eloquently: “Fuck you, Barnes!” Steve rolls his eyes, sighing loudly. “Anyway, _asides_ from that, you really thought I’d let some stranger move into his apartment with him without running a full background check?”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Well yeah, okay. Good point, you’re a good fri- That information is kept under tight security by the club, how did you…”

“It’s my job,” Tony says breezily.

“Scary.”

“I know, right?” Bucky cuts in. “That’s how I felt when I first met him, but at least you know you’re safe if he’s on your side”

“Right,” Tony says, his voice distant. Steve puts the phone on speaker, figuring it’s the best way to have this mess of a conversation.

“W… wait a sec,” Bucky pauses. “Tony how soon did you know?”

Tony lets out an exasperated breath. “Why did you think I took you to a strip club like that when you know I could’ve taken you to a better one?”

Steve, slightly offended, mutters an annoyed, “hey,” at which Bucky’s mouth quirks up into a smile.

“Anyway,” Tony says, drawing out the syllable to show how utterly frustrated he is by the amount of derailment this conversation is experiencing. “That’s what I was calling about. There’s an opening at a higher end club, but it’s a bit more of a commute. It’s in Brooklyn, because being outside of the major city gives them some means of seeming more reputable than the stereotypical ones they have in the back streets of the city,” Tony rambles off, his monotony indicating that he’s repeating someone else’s words. “They have better money and flexibility, and it’s more clean.”

Steve’s face has settled into a frown, his eyes focused on the ceiling. His voice has a bit of edge to it when he asks, “did Bucky put you up to this?”

“What? No, no, I swear. He did bring up your… _situation_ that one time, so I figured I’d look into it to see if there was anything I could do, but I didn’t want to push anything until I knew I could get something done for you.”

Bucky huffs, tangling his fingers in Steve’s hair and hoping that the physical contact grounds him enough to undo the knot of anxiety in his gut. “And it took you this long to get him a job there? What about your _connections_?” Bucky asks, the quotation marks heavily implied.

“The clubs have their own background checks to run, and since these guys hold onto their employees pretty well they’re cautious about who they hire. I think they sent a couple people to check in on Steve’s performance,” Tony says, smirk evidence in his voice before he snickers.

“Wow, you actual child,” Bucky mutters.

“And with his experience he’s a shoe in against the people that actually applied for some of the openings. So, what do you say, Mr. Storm?”

Bucky snorts. “Only if he changes his stage name.”

“Do I get to speak on this matter?” Steve asks, shooting Bucky a playful warning look. Bucky sticks his tongue out, then leans down to give Steve a loud kiss on his forehead.

“Ew, I do not want to hear that,” Tony says.

Steve laughs, letting one of his hands travel up Bucky’s chest to cup his jaw, brushing his thumb along Bucky’s stubble. “It sounds promising. Text me the information and I’ll give it a look. You’re sure about this?”

“Very. And hey, I maybe, _kind_ of have connections that may be of use to you for your writi-”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” Steve says a little stubbornly. If Bucky’s honest, he’s surprised Tony got Steve to comply so far. Expecting Steve to accept any more help would be pushing it.

“Just hear me out,” Tony continues, “It’s just a few names, it’s not even that much of a help. And you wouldn’t even have to mention me.”

Before Steve can get any more hung up on his pride, Bucky cuts in. “Forward the names to me and I’ll show him when he’s over his complex.”

Tony gives a shot laugh, thinking rather correctly that Steve will probably never reach that point. Steve doesn’t look too pleased, so Bucky takes the liberty of ending the conversation and hanging up.

“You know Sam already has things going for me,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky shrugs. “Those are freelance articles and stuff. This would be for _you_.”

Steve worries his bottom lip, turning onto his side so he’s facing Bucky’s stomach, head still in his lap.

“Can we just…”

“Not talk about this?” Bucky finishes.

“Yeah,” Steve says, relief evident in the rush of breath that leaves his lips.

“Of course.” Bucky smiles softly, smoothing Steve’s hair in the places that it’s gone a bit unruly. “What about the other offer? You gonna take it up?”

“You think I should?”

Bucky shuffles, settling into a position where his legs are less likely to fall asleep. “You know what I think, and Tony didn’t even talk to me about this before he ambushed you.”

“I _am_ getting really sick of that shitty sound system. I’m half sure it’s making me deaf. Besides, it’d be nice to try some place with a touch of class. Something more artful.”

“Mmm, baby yes,” Bucky hums, “You’re _art_.”

“Wow.”

Bucky scoffs. “What? You wouldn’t complain if I said that with my fingers in your ass.”

“Yeah, but they’re not,” Steve points out.

“But they could be.”

“Oh yeah, and how do you know I still wouldn’t make fun of you for calling me art?”

“I guess we’ll have to do a test run to find out who’s right and who’s wrong.”

“Mmm, and what a shame. Here I was hoping we’d be able to – ”

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up.”

***

“I won, give me ten bucks,” Bucky demands, wrapping his arms around Steve and nuzzling up against him.

“We never formally set a bet.”

“But I still proved you wrong.”

“Fine, but how about I trade the ten bucks for a private dance at my work tonight?”

Bucky frowns, dragging his lips against Steve’s warm skin. “Just ten bucks though? That’s a bit cheap.”

“I guess you get my employee discount,” Steve murmurs sleepily, the lopsided smile carrying through the lilt in his voice.

“You noticed?” Bucky asks sheepishly.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Bucky mutters something into Steve’s shoulder. “What was that?”

“No, Steve, I didn’t think that. But fine. I’ll show up.”

Steve hums, and then pulls away from Bucky to reach for his phone to check the time. In the process, due to being horribly coordinated, Steve whacks his hand on the open drawer of Bucky’s nightstand. “Ow!” He sits up and rubs his hand, pouting miserably. Bucky laughs and runs his hand up and down Steve’s side pacifyingly. When he’s finally over it. Steve goes to grab his phone, stopping when he notices a rather large stack of sticky notes in Bucky’s drawer. Curiosity aroused, Steve takes a peek.

“Oh my gosh,” Steve whispers, a fond smile taking over his expression. “ _Buck_.”

Bucky makes a confused noise and sits up, making the mattress bounce as he settles onto his haunches behind Steve. “Oh no,” he groans when he sees the stack of sticky notes Steve has in his hand. It’s the bunch of smileys that Steve drew every time he left Bucky something for dinner, including the doodle and short note he did once. Bucky falls back onto the bed, face burning red with embarrassment. He covers his face with a pillow and groans into it, blocking out Steve’s warm laughs.

His muscles jump when he feels Steve’s light touch on his stomach, but he refuses to come out from hiding.

“Buck, that’s really cute,” Steve says softly, kind of wishing Bucky would get over his embarrassment so he could see the look on Steve’s face. He’s so enamoured. “You’re so cute.”

“Nnnnnnn,” Bucky groans, whining when Steve kisses his chest. “No.”

“Yes, you really are.” Steve scrunches his nose and bites his lip for a moment, then ducks down to take Bucky’s nipple between his teeth, grinning inwardly when he hears Bucky’s sharp gasp.

“Mmm, so sweet,” Steve teases.

“Bullshit,” Bucky says, taking the pillow off and glaring down at Steve. “That’s my play on you. You can’t call me sweet.” Steve gets a quizzical look on his face, as if he’s about to ask what he _can_ call Bucky, but he’s not saying it because he knows better. Bucky opens his mouth to answer Steve’s unasked question, but Steve narrows his eyes.

“No. I’m not calling you anything kinky or weird so shut up right now. If I get to call you anything it’s a sappy post-it hoarder, so either shut up and let me –” Steve cuts off, flailing when Bucky drags him forward into a kiss.

“Don’t bring those up again,” Bucky mutters against Steve’s lips.

“I promise I will _always_ bring them up,” Steve says affectionately. Bucky whines, twisting his mouth and pulling Steve back towards him before he can notice Bucky’s blush (which doesn’t work at all, and seeing it makes a warmth blossom inside of Steve).

***

Later that week Steve is brushing his teeth in the morning, and he stops suddenly, hands trembling. The toothbrush falls from his lips into the sink with a dramatic clatter, and Bucky pops his head into the bathroom.

“Everything okay?”

Steve shakes his head, staring with horror at himself in the mirror. A glob of toothpaste drips from the corner of his mouth into the sink, a great _splat_ sounding. Quickly, Steve spits out the rest after picking up the brush and rinses his mouth out.

“I’m a horrible parent. I’m a _monster_.”

“Steve?”

“Buck, I haven’t named the new fish yet. I – I’ve had him all this time and I didn’t name him, I – ”

“Steve. Steve, it’s okay,” Bucky assures, looking at Steve like he’s gone mad. He shakes his head and rests a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Here, let’s… C’mon.”

Steve pouts, but accepts as Bucky drags him to the office where the fish are swimming around in a happy new tank that they picked up recently, decorated with a castle and a treasure chest, much to Steve’s dismay. There is also a picture of the Milky Way there that Bucky printed out (very cute, yes), as well as one of an explanation of how Darth Vader’s mask is a cheese grater entirely in French.

(“Stevie you know I’m like this I can’t believe you think I’d stop being a meme loving fuck just because we’re _dating_ now. You can’t change me that’s just who I _am_ ; they’re a PART of meme, Steve!”)

“I…” Steve hesitates. “I can’t think of a name.”

“Then I’ll name him.”

“Buck, no, you give shitty names,” Steve mumbles, too busy in serious contemplation to acknowledge what he said.

“Stanley.”

“What?”

“Stanley.”

“Buck, that’s actually good.”

Bucky laughs and pops over to one of the filing boxes tucked aside, pulling something out. “Good, otherwise giving you this would be kind of awkward.”

Steve takes the paper Bucky holds out to him with apprehension, and turns it around in his hands to read it.

“A birth certificate? Bucky, you’re – ”

“The best, I know.”

“I was going to say absurd, but whatever makes you feel good.”

Bucky grins, and despite how ridiculous everything is, Steve still pulls him closer into a sweet, soft kiss.

***

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“What’s that?” Steve asks, pulling on a shirt having come fresh from the shower. He’s not usually a morning shower person what with the need to shower every time he comes back from the club late at night, but with Bucky’s insatiable sex drive (not that Steve’s complaining) they’ve probably both been driving the water bill up some. Nothing that Steve’s potential job change won’t cover, he’s sure.

Bucky’s got to leave for work soon, and Steve’s been planning to crank out a few words for a short idea he had, but neither of them look ready to tackle the day.

Steve accepts a mug of coffee from Bucky and presses a kiss to Bucky’s temple, the both of them moving to the bar stools. Bucky, ever the crude, takes his seat on Steve’s lap.

“Nat texted me the details for another blind date,” Bucky mutters, shuffling comfortably on Steve’s lap and smiling contentedly.

“Oh. Really?”

Bucky flushes, looking sheepish when he says, “I might not have told her that we’re… y’know.”

“I see. So she’s just doing what she normally does,” Steve offers, and Bucky nods. Steve looks fondly at Bucky as he cycles through a handful of expressions, settling on something that’s a little disconcerted and flustered.

“Yeah. I guess. I – I still haven’t… I kinda just like having this between us for a little while, you know? Not that they’re going to interfere any more than usual, but.”

Steve kisses the tip of Bucky’s nose, insides warming at the colour that spreads across Bucky’s skin. He looks gorgeous.

(And if anyone were to try and hold that sentiment against him, Steve would deny ever thinking it. Maybe. Probably not, because how could anyone think Bucky is anything _but_ gorgeous?)

“That’s fine, you don’t have to explain. So are you gonna go?”

Not having expected Steve to go back to the topic, let alone ask if Bucky’s thinking about going on a date with anyone other than Steve, Bucky pulls away from Steve and fixes him with a confused expression. “I wasn’t planning on it. Why, you think I should?”

Steve shrugs. “For old times’ sake. Who knows if you’ll ever go on another one? Just pray it’s memorable and not a flop; that’d be disappointing. I’d have let them take you from me for one night for _nothing_. Imagine that.”

“You’re insane,” Bucky concludes, shaking his head all bleary eyed and going back to his coffee. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just this once. Promise you won’t get jealous?”

“Aw, shucks, Buck. I can’t promise _shit_ on that,” Steve says jokingly, bouncing his legs to jostle Bucky to the point where he almost loses his balance and slips off of Steve. Bucky lets out a short yelp and grabs onto Steve, glaring at him once he’s sure he’s not about to fall to his death.

“You’re mean.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

“’M startin’ to see your true colours, Rogers. Better clean your act up.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Shut up.”

“Sir, ye-” Steve stops abruptly, his snarky reply muffled by Bucky’s lips against his. He hums happily and puts his mug down, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist and feeling a rush of pleasure and security that he hasn’t felt since –

Steve pulls back and laughs breathily with his head dropped to Bucky’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, brushing a few strands of hair behind Steve’s ear.

“Mm,” Steve assures. “Just happy.”

Bucky snorts, on his way to retorting with something sarcastic when he thinks better of it. He moves his hand to the nape of Steve’s neck and teases the hair there, brushing his fingers along Steve’s skin soothingly. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”

***

That same night, after Steve’s got the place smelling like fresh citrusy Pledge and Bucky has changed into something more suitable, they head out to join Clint and Natasha for some excuse of a dinner at a bar.

“So we’re pretending like we’re _not_ together?” Steve asks when they get off Bucky’s bike, confused as to why Bucky would want to do that when he’s been stuck to Steve pretty much all the time.

Bucky nods, looking determined, like it’s the best idea ever. “Last time we fucked around with Clint making him think we _were_ and now we’re gonna do the opposite.”

Steve tilts his chin up, fixing Bucky with a challenging glance. “You think you could do that for the whole evening?”

“You think I couldn’t?”

Steve raises his eyebrows, shrugging. “I’m just sayin’ you’re pretty touchy.”

“You think I can’t keep my hands off of you tonight? Must think you’re some hot shit, huh?”

Steve rolls his eyes, bumping into Bucky as they make their way to the bar entrance.

“One for me,” Bucky mutters. “Bet I’ll hold off the touching better than you will.”

“Oh really? And what does the winner get?” Steve asks, voice dropped low. He’s walking close behind Bucky, speaking almost directly into Bucky’s ear to make sure Bucky hears him over the din.

Bucky turns around, stopping on their way to where Natasha and Clint said they’re seated. “There’s some new pandas at the zoo. They’re there for a short time and they’re adorable. Loser pays for the date there, deal?”

Steve laughs warmly, quickly pecking Bucky on the cheek before muttering, “Deal.”

“That’s two, Rogers,” Bucky says, holding up two metal fingers and wiggling them in the air before turning around and trotting off to find their friends.

Steve’s beginning to wonder if this bet is going to be as easy to win as he originally thought.

Somehow, by the time Steve catches up to Bucky at the table, him and Clint are already in the middle of a conversation about Kim Kardashian.

“Her Instagram feed is scandalous,” Clint says, deadly serious.

“That’s like five percent of the time, Clint, it just depends on what you choose to focus on when you check her account. While you’re actively looking for the scandalous shots, you’re ignoring that the vast majority of them are pretty normal.”

“She literally posted a – Oh, hey, Steve,” Clint says, shooting Steve a quick wave. Steve waves back and sits in the seat beside Bucky, forcing a tight smile.

“They’re always like that,” Natasha says, gesturing dismissively between the two of them. Steve nods, laughing nervously. He kind of knows, but he still feels out of place sometimes. “How are you?”

Steve smiles more easily, taking a breath and smiling lopsidedly. “You know what? I’m actually doing really well.”

Bucky overhears, breaking off of his conversation with Clint for a moment to smile quickly at Steve, like he can’t help it. Steve glances at Bucky sideways, a knowing smile passing over his lips.

“That’s good to hear,” Natasha replies, her tone of voice dripping with smugness, though her face is about as stoic as it ever is.

“How about yourself?”

“Oh you know, just the usual,” she says, taking a sip of her glaringly bright pink drink. “Dealing with this child over here.” She gestures at Clint with a tip of her head, rolling her eyes when Clint whines as if on cue. Natasha gives Steve a look that says, _see what I mean?_ And yeah, Steve sees what she means.

Steve startles a bit when Bucky touches the back of his hand, standing up and rounding the table. “You want a drink?”

Steve nods, holding back a smile. “Surprise me. Oh, and Bucky?”

“Hmm?” Bucky hums, turning around to see what Steve wants.

“Just _one_ ,” he Steve says sweetly, and judging by the shocked and betrayed look on Bucky’s face, Bucky picks up on Steve’s call out. He scowls when he turns away again, stomping his way over to the bar.

“What was _that_?” Clint hisses to Natasha. Natasha’s mouth twitches in a way that means she would be smiling if she were anyone but herself. She shoots Steve a quick look, but then looks back at Clint, clicking her tongue when she sees the mess that Clint’s hair is in.

“Nothing, dear,” she says jokingly, fixing Clint’s hair in a very concentrated way that has Clint watching her with these sappy warm eyes. Steve wonders if he’s ever looked at Bucky like that. Chances are he has, he just never notices when he does it, probably like Clint doesn’t know he’s doing it right now. Natasha scoffs and pushes his face away, rolling her eyes fondly.

Bucky comes back a few minutes later, two glasses in hand. He gives Steve his drink, a stubborn scowl on his face. Steve barely holds back a laugh, and Clint’s left looking between the two of them with suspicion. Bucky picks up the conversation where he left off with Clint, leaving Steve and Natasha out again. It’s fine though, they don’t see each other nearly enough and they all manage to make a fair amount of friendly conversation in their pairs anyway.

Steve kind of drops his resolve, especially when Bucky’s rambling about work with a sort of frustration that looks downright _adorable_. Despite how cute he is, Bucky is Very Serious about the subject at hand, something about a shitty co-worker called Trey.

“S’a bummer, man,” Clint says sympathetically, and Bucky huffs, dropping his head between his shoulders.

“Just hope he gets fucking fired soon. Guy gives me more anxiety than the – my arm.”

Steve frowns, reflexively wanting to comfort Bucky. He brings a hand to Bucky’s shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into the back of Bucky’s neck. Bucky glances sideways at him with appreciation in his eyes for all of one second before he remembers their bet. Bucky smirks and mouths, “three,” at which Steve narrows his eyes, taking an extra second to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder reassuringly in the case that he’s actually upset and not just trying to _make_ Steve lose by playing on his sympathy. Either way, that’s just _evil_. Bucky’s gotta pay.

He notices Clint looking at them squinty-eyed and takes his hand off of Bucky, voicing a small, “Oops,” in his head.

When their greasy, barely acceptable dinners come around, Steve manages to get some food on the corner of his mouth, and while he could easily wipe it away himself, he knows Bucky will notice it and get peeved until Steve does something about it. Just as he predicts, Bucky reaches out at some point towards Steve, but then he stops midway, his hand hovering in the air.

“Okaayyy,” Clint says awkwardly.

“What?” Steve asks Bucky, tilting his head to one side, tempting Bucky something mean.

“You got a little,” Bucky mutters, gesturing to where Steve should wipe on his own face. Steve purposely wipes the wrong side of his face, making Bucky huff. “Other side.” Steve misses the spot again, and Bucky groans with frustration. “Jeez, Rogers, just,” he says grumpily, leaning forward and wiping away at the food. Steve expects Bucky to just pull back and wipe his thumb, so instead of letting him do that, he flicks out his tongue to catch the tip of Bucky’s thumb. Bucky’s eyes fly wide open, and Steve licks his lips, smiling sweetly.

“Two.”

“Wow,” Clint whispers, looking meaningfully at Natasha. Bucky’s certain that in Clint’s head he’s thinking, “That was, like, really _gay_.”

Later on, Steve’s notices that Bucky has actively been ignoring him. Fair enough, Steve figures, supposing he’ll do the same. So he does just that, feeling a little edgy but playful all the same.

At some point, Bucky starts throwing Steve a few desperate looks, but Steve pretends like he doesn’t notice, shooting him a simple smile once in a while.

Steve startles when he feels something on his leg, looking down to see Bucky’s hand there.

“Three,” Steve whispers, mouth quirking up at the corners before turning back to discuss abortion rights with Clint. “It’s not like we have any say, it’s their bodies, but I’d definitely say I’m pro-choice.”

Clint nods, wiping his mouth with a tissue before going off about how he doesn’t understand men that could possibly assume they have a right to say what someone should or shouldn’t do with their bodies, especially when it’s going to be in the field of having an entire human growing inside of them.

Steve nods in all the appropriate places, finding it more and more difficult to pay attention as Bucky’s hand makes its way up Steve’s thigh. “Mhm,” Steve hums tightly, smiling in a way that probably looks all sorts of insincere.

Natasha seems to get a clue in on what’s going on and changes the topic, earning a thankful nod from Steve when she engages Clint in conversation, leaving Steve and Bucky to their… whatever is going on.

“Did you hear about that astronaut that stayed in space for a year? They’re trying to see the long-term effects of extended space travel, and the dude came back two inches taller. No idea about any psychological or physiological effects otherwise,” Bucky says, casually moving his hand closer and closer to the join of Steve’s legs, where his trousers suddenly feel a lot tighter. “He has a twin here they’re trying to compare to, but even then it’s pretty… There’s a lot of factors that could account for any differences between them so it’ll be interesting to see what comes of it.”

“Mmm,” Natasha says. “Yeah, and given all goes well we should be about ready for space travel and living on other planets, right? Assuming we’ll get there in this lifetime.”

“Hey, don’t doubt the power of great brains,” Bucky says, sounding vaguely offended, raising his left hand to his chest in faux astonishment, right at the same moment that his right hand brushes over Steve’s cock. Bucky shoots Steve a sharp glance, eyes going wide with surprise, a hint of satisfaction in his gaze. “Well.”

Clint furrows his eyebrows, looking between the two of them, Steve flustered and Bucky all predatory eyes. That’s when Natasha finally gives the poor guy a break, leaning over and whispering not-so-subtly, “They’re fucking.” Clint’s eyes widen, his mouth forming an ‘o’.

“But they… They’ve been weird the whole time! They can’t be – ” He hisses to Natasha, then looks between the guys again and – “Oh. Oh God, no, they’re playing _games_. I need to get out of here.”

“It’s about time we get going too, it’s pretty late,” Bucky says chirpily, and Steve smiles with gritted teeth, nodding and trying his best not to roll his hips up into Bucky’s touch.

Eventually they manage to get out of there, the two parties splitting at the door after a few hugs – by which time Steve’s _problem_ has thankfully calmed down some.

Once they’ve left, Steve puts a hand between Bucky’s shoulder blades and pushes him towards his bike.

“That’s three,” Bucky says in a singsong voice. “Looks like we’re gonna need a tiebreaker.”

“I held off surprisingly well, and given your third one was what it was, I’m pretty sure you’re somewhere in the fifties _at least_. So get on that goddamn bike and get us home so I can – ”

“So you can what?” Bucky purrs challengingly, tossing Steve his helmet.

He doesn’t expect Steve to answer him with the most torturous string of dirty talk he’s heard, continuing the entire ride back to the apartment and knowingly dropping his hands down onto Bucky’s legs every time they hit a red light.

Though he still counts it at three (which, really would’ve been drastically more had he not been trying to fight it), Bucky lets Steve take the victory. Even if he has to pay, he gets a panda date out of this, so it’s really a win-win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! scared ! for the end ! thank y'all so much for sticking w me this far. I appreciate it a lot. Credits to katie/dorkbait for discussion topics and the new fish name, and for being a solid pal in this last leg of the race. 
> 
> Darth vader cheese post [here](http://insertatitlehere.tumblr.com/post/141854902598/vi-is-foxtrot-lamb-vi-is)


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist.](http://8tracks.com/bkcybvrnes/we-re-a-power-couple-and-everyone-knows-it-but-us) (also available on spotify; message G on tumblr for link)
> 
> Since our respective A/N's are long this time around, I'm putting India's here, and mine are all at the end. I hope this is... satisfactory to some degree. Posting this is bittersweet. -G
> 
> wowowowow I can't believe this is it and the end like wow guys I remember when this fic first came about– okay actually that's wrong I don't really remember how it all started, but I just remember in the beginning me and G would literally spend hours planning the whole story out and coming up with all the jokes we were going to throw in and creating literally the entire plot and oh man was it fun. And then as G began writing the chapter properly discussing all the smaller things to happen that weren't directly addressed in the outline. I think for at least two months all we talked about was the fic. It was awesome quite honestly.  
> I really hope you all enjoyed the story as much we enjoyed creating it and writing it for you. We thank you for the kind comments and for all you silent readers who keep coming back for more. But yeah when G sent me the last chapter to review and read it was like woah wait.. This is it. THiS iS IT. It was so surreal in a way and bittersweet for me. But you know, all good things come to an end unfortunately. Maybe we'll come up with another fic or something?????????? Who knows tbh. But seriously thank you thank you thank you for reading and following the story with us as it unfolded. Again, I hope you all enjoyed it as much as we did :-) happy reading my lovely readers -India

“Steve. What are the kids doing out here?”

Steve looks over his shoulder from the cooker, stirring a quick soup he whipped up (and yes, okay, it’s summer, but sometimes cravings must be fulfilled). “We don’t see enough of them. I thought it’d be nice to have them out here, and the office is bland. I don’t want them to be sad.”

Bucky huffs, sitting at the breakfast bar and dropping his chin to the counter, watching the fish swim around in their tank one way, then the other. “I feel like they’re watching us.”

“That’s kind of a given,” Steve points out.

“Steve, I will do unspeakable things to you out here that no one, let alone the fish, should see.”

Steve smirks, turning around with his arms crossed over his still ridiculously broad chest, fixing Bucky with a playful gaze. “Is that a promise?”

“Maybe. But they can’t be out here.”

Steve shrugs, putting a slice of cheese between his teeth. “So we’ll give them my room.”

“But _Steeeeeve_. It takes too much effort to change sheets late at night after sex and it’s so much _easier_ to just go to your room. How am I supposed to sleep knowing the children will be staring at me? They’ll know what we did! We can’t let them know we _do_ that!”

“You’re being ridiculously dramatic,” Steve says, finishing off the cheese and rounding the counter to sit on the stool beside Bucky, looking pointedly at the fish before turning to Bucky for a slow, explicit kiss that leaves Bucky gasping for more.

“They’re goldfish, Buck. They can’t speak or judge, and even if they could, their memory span is too short. They’re having my room and we can still use it when we need, okay?”

“Is this your way of saying you want to move to my room? You could’ve just said it,” Bucky mumbles, chasing Steve’s mouth as he leans away.

Steve laughs, putting a gentle hand on Bucky’s chest. “We’ve been doing that already, so I don’t know if saying anything out loud really makes it official.”

“Oh, Stevie it _does_. And with you being a Facebook mom you’re going to be posting about it _everywhere_.”

“You’re the dumbest,” Steve says fondly, tilting Bucky’s chin up for another quick kiss before hopping off the stool to attend to the soup, leaving Bucky whining and making grabby hands in Steve’s general direction.

***

 **Bucky Barnes:** _ur beau tofu_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _*beautiful_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _aw thanks_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _wait. wait_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _i fuKced UP_

 **Fish mom:** _Wow narcissist much_ _L_ _Here I was thinking you thought I’m pretty!_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _Steve baby I do steve pLEASE IT ANUS_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _fu… fuc this my fat fingers i tried to type ‘it just’ but_

 **Fish mom:** _Bucky… Anus and just are spelt very differently. How…_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _the keys r close together and my fingers tapped out of order!_

 **Fish mom:** _You did that by muscle memory you don’t just DO that_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _fine ok i call tony an anus a lot but i swear that was not how that happened_

 **Fish mom:** _That sounds neither mature nor like a good burn_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _look i know ok just… deal with it_

 **Fish mom:** _Aren’t you supposed to be heading out for your last date right about now?_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _shit shit yea im late im supposed to meet them at a café i… are u sure abt this? steve what if they woo me?_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _what if i woo them?_

 **Fish mom:** _Then I shall have to duel for my man._

 **Bucky Barnes:** _‘my man’ steve? really?_

 **Fish mom:** _Oh my god shut up, I was trying to play along. Leave me alone._

 **Bucky Barnes:** _stevie awww ur my man too :*_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _ur gonna duel for me how sweet_

 **Fish mom:** _Nob_

 **Fish mom:** _*NO_

 **Bucky Barnes:** _steve, ik i typed anus that does not mean i wanna sext u rn i have somewhere to b_

 **Fish mom:** _Fuck you._

 **Bucky Barnes:** _gladly ;)_

Bucky grins, pocketing his phone before making his way to the address that Natasha sent his way. “It’s a good one,” she promised, which is kind of disappointing since he wants a good story to tell more than he wants a good date. Does that make him a bad person? With all the stuff he’s endured, it only seems fair. Is there a limit to that justification? Whatever.

He pulls up to the curb and takes the key out of the ignition, double-checking everything’s good before making his way to the hole-in-the-wall place that he’s not been to before.

At first glance, there’s no one there. Anyone in the shop is already chatting in a pair or group, and Bucky’s stood there looking and feeling a little dumb. Is he that late that the date already left? He shoots Natasha a text to check, feeling all kinds of guilty if that’s the case, then goes to the counter to order a coffee, figuring it’s the least he can do to not look awkward here.

Bucky waits, tapping at his phone to look occupied and continuing to do so when he gets his drink and begins to make his way to a table. Unfortunately on his way there, Bucky bumps into someone, his coffee spilling all the way down the front of his shirt. “Sh – sorry,” Bucky says quickly, then looks up and –

“Hi,” Steve says, in an unassuming but deadly flirtatious tone. He gives Bucky a blindingly bright smile, his cheeks pink.

“You – what are you doing here?” Bucky demands, scrambling back to the counter to grab some tissues to dry himself off.

Steve frowns, then sticks out his hand. “Hey, my name’s Steve. I’m assuming you’re Bucky? My date for the night?”

Bucky stops rapidly scrubbing his shirt to stop and stare at Steve. “Oh, you’re good. Ohhh you – Let’s _do_ this.”

Steve, breaking character for a second, smiles briefly. “I’m sorry about the coffee. I guess you’ll have to buy another one.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky mutters, huffing and trying not to grin, feeling boyishly and stupidly enamoured. “You’re not gonna get it for me?”

Steve makes a face. “ _You_ walked into _me_ , so I would think not.”

“Wow, really? Nice. Fine. Do you at least have a change of shirt for me since this was so obviously planned?” Bucky asks, cracking the act, because right now his frustration with his icky wet shirt is not doing anyone any favours, and he does not want to spend his bad blind date with Steve not being able to wear a clean shirt.

“You can borrow mine,” Steve offers. You know, because lending a shirt that he’s wearing is a lot less of a task than paying for a drink.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, because if Steve is going to pull this, he should expect Bucky to play right along. “That would be really nice, actually.”

“We should probably, um,” Steve says, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to gesture to the toilets.

“Yeah.”

They head to the bathroom and find it empty, and once Steve’s stripped out of his hoodie and shirt, handing it over to Bucky, Bucky just wants to touch him. Just a little. So before he bothers taking his own shirt off and changing, and before Steve can zip his hoodie up (which really, Steve, please), Bucky steps forward, putting his palms flat on Steve’s chest and pressing their lips together.

“Woah,” Steve says, stepping back with a blush. “We, uh. Let’s get you changed and grab a drink first, yeah?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve, faltering at the glint of adoration Steve lets slip through. “Fine.”

Once everything’s dealt with and Steve forces Bucky to replace his own drink instead of being courteous and buying it for him, they sit down at a table tucked in the back. It’s almost torturous trying to make small talk with Steve like they’ve never met, but once Bucky gets a hang of it, it comes easy. Bucky even throws in a few explicit flirtations just to mess around with making Steve blush, because there is no way he can ever get tired of that. Steve’s skin is just pale enough that the slightest provocation can turn him beet red in a matter of seconds, and every time it happens Bucky feels an overwhelming sense of pride. This guy’s a _stripper_ and he blushes like a goddamn…

Bucky feels Steve’s foot nudge against his, and while he feels like a child, he is not at all opposed to some physical contact right now, even if it does evolve into a game of footsies.

“So,” Steve says, leaning forward, resting his chin on his hand. “What are you, a nerd that thinks they’re super cool? You think you’re Iron Man or somethin’? ‘Cause let me tell you I’ve met him and you sure don’t have that full body armour. What is that, some kinda fake shit?”

Bucky’s eye twitches. He looks Steve dead on and holds two metal fingers up in the air, turning on the vibration function in a very pointed manner. Steve’s eyes darken, his breath running short in the same way that they did when he felt those fingers inside of him.

“Does this look fake to you?” Bucky asks, his tone bored and monotonous despite knowing the effect he’s having on Steve, and what that reaction is doing to Bucky in turn.

“So then… Your real arm… How did you?” Steve stammers dumbly, still unable to tear his eyes away. Bucky rolls his eyes and stops messing around, bringing his hand back down to settle atop the table, feeling entirely smug when Steve’s eyes follow the movement.

“I won the arm at some kid’s birthday party when I took a real good swing at the piñata they had,” Bucky shrugs. “I figured fuck it, it looked really cool, so why not switch it out?”

“Wow,” Steve says, voice purposely naïve and dense. “That’s,” Steve says, pausing to turn his head into his shoulder for a quick laugh, “metal as fuck.”

“Oh my god, no.”

“Where have you _bean_ all my life; I feel like we’re made for each other, you know? Like we get along a _latte_.”

“Steve, I swear to god.”

“I feel like I can really espresso my feelings to you, you know?”

“Steve, I – ”

“God I need another cup. I’m like a filter, this coffee just goes right through me.”

Before Bucky can get a word in edgewise, Steve dashes off to get them a fresh couple of drinks after a quick toilet break.

“This is so much coffee,” Bucky mumbles when Steve returns.

“Complaining?”

“Observing.”

“You know what all this coffee and I have in common?” Steve says, a testy smirk on his lips. Bucky’s eye twitches. “We can both keep you up all night.”

“Yep, there it is. Pass me the sugar, sugar.”

Steve frowns. “I shoulda seen that coming.”

“Funny, the guy I was fucking last night said the same thing.”

Steve narrows his eyes, reaching across the table to pinch Bucky’s cheek, knowing that Bucky will recoil in protest. “That’s just rude.”

Bucky’s not sure how much more he can take of this without breaking character. “So what now? Anywhere you want to go today?”

“I was thinking we go to the zoo,” Steve suggests nonchalantly. Bucky tilts his chin up, trying to figure out Steve’s game.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, heard zoo dates are meant to be pretty romantic, you know? Thought we could give it a _shot_.”

Bucky stares blankly at the absolute _child_ before him.

“What?”

“You just… you pulled another one, didn’t you?”

Steve, looking confused, shakes his head and brings the mug to his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, failing miserably at hiding his grin as he takes a cautious sip.

Bucky doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or charmed, but right now it’s a good mix of the both. It’s probably worth it to see the date through, he figures, since Steve is not going to let up and this could go a number of different ways.

“Fine, let’s go.”

***

Surprisingly enough, Steve isn’t that bad for the rest of the date. Asides from a few forced animal puns and making Bucky pay (“What? You lost the bet, remember?” “I thought we hadn’t met before.” “Bucky, you’re paying.”), Bucky suspects the pure romanticism of a zoo date tugs at Steve’s heartstrings enough to make him ease up on his goal to make this the worst date ever. As much as Bucky was enjoying it, he’s glad for the break, able to just enjoy being with Steve and cooing at the animals.

At one point he even managed to slip his hand into Steve’s, earning a small squeak and a shy smile. Unfortunately they also received a grunt from some dude with his girlfriend off to one side, but Steve’s grip tightened and Bucky saw the kiss coming from a mile away. If there’s anything Steve’s going to break character for, it’s that.

“So,” Steve says once they’re finally outside, wearing a goofy grin. “I had a really great time, and I was thinking maybe we could go on another date?”

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, Steve pulls something out of his pocket.

“Is that my magic eight ball?”

Steve frowns. “No, it’s mine. You have one too? I mean, if it was yours I couldn’t possibly have it, because that would have to mean I _stole_ it from you which is totally not cool.” Steve then shakes the keyring, scowling at it and putting it away again.

“What did it say?” Bucky asks.

“’No fucking way.’ Well, I guess that settles that, it’s a no go!” Steve says chirpily, waving quickly before turning on his heel and trotting away. Bucky is left standing at the zoo exit, mouth agape.

***

“You fucker,” Bucky breathes when he enters the apartment, eyes fixed on Steve lounging on the couch, still in only his hoodie but having changed into a pair of sweatpants. Steve stops chewing his thumbnail long enough to turn over the back of the couch and smile warmly at Bucky.

“Hey, how was – ”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Bucky orders, hopping around on one foot, trying to get his shoes off too fast so that he can give Steve a piece of his mind. Steve laughs at the spectacle, putting aside his book in favour of going over there to help Bucky out. “I can get my own shoes off,” Bucky grumbles, turning away from Steve’s offer for help and almost toppling over, save for that Steve grabs Bucky with those stupid arms of his and holds him steady.

Bucky mumbles incoherently for the amount of time it takes him to get his shoes off, stand up straight, and shake Steve’s hands off of him, but Steve’s pretty resilient and doesn’t let go, forcing Bucky to look up at him. “What?” Bucky mutters, feeling a heat rise into his cheeks. He brushes aside some loose hair and frowns, trying weakly to avoid the affection in Steve’s gaze.

Steve doesn’t say anything for a while, his mouth twitching upwards into a small smile as he watches Bucky squirm.

“Steeeeve, stop _looking_ at me like – ”

Steve surges forward, pulling Bucky’s body against his own and parting Bucky’s lips with a heated kiss, slow but deep. Unwillingly, Bucky lets out a small groan and melts into Steve’s touch, all the irritation dissolving so fast it were as if it never existed. Bucky brings up a hand to cup Steve’s cheek, taking control and softening the kisses into something with a different type of desperation; the type that’s gaping hole can be filled with a few words, rather than the type that’s satiated by the heat between their bodies.

When Bucky breaks apart for a breather, he can’t form any adequate words, the only few ricocheting in his head too bold to voice. He drops his head to Steve’s shoulder, sighing contently when Steve starts rubbing his back gently, occasionally trailing his fingers lightly down Bucky’s left arm, sparking a few sensations that make Bucky flood with warmth.

“So, how was that for the last blind date of your life?”

“Of my life?”

Steve shrugs with the shoulder that Bucky’s head isn’t on, wearing a lopsided smile that Bucky can’t see. “Call me optimistic.”

Bucky scoffs, “For once in your life, yeah.” He opens his eyes, tracing the line of Steve’s collarbone that’s peeking out from the hoodie all the way until it disappears again under the fabric. While normally he’d file Steve’s optimism about the length of their relationship away for later, Bucky lets himself feel the weight of Steve’s sincerity, the words winding around him and filling him until all he can feel is

“I love you,” Bucky whispers. Steve’s hands go still, and it’s a moment long enough for Bucky to panic and pull back sharply. “I – you don’t have to say anything in response to that, please don’t feel like you have to,” he rambles, eyes flitting around, not looking directly at Steve until Steve lifts Bucky’s chin up to level his gaze.

“I have one more thing left to finish this day off with,” Steve admits, stepping aside to reach behind Bucky for a box on the table. Bucky, while totally understanding and patient, can’t help that his heart drops a little at the diversion. Steve comes back before him, holding a takeout box in his hands with a small, almost shy smile. Opening it, Steve reveals a boxful of onion rings.

“You’re…” Bucky mutters, flustered and still overthinking the words that left his mouth.

“Now, I’m not proposing to you, but I will…” Steve pauses, picking one up and feeding it to Bucky with a widening smile. “There.”

“I can’t kiss you now,” Bucky says when he’s done with one bite, holding the rest of the unfinished snack between his fingers. “My breath will be all gross and oniony; I have to brush my teeth.”

“If I eat one too, then we’ll taste the same, right? It’ll cancel out, you won’t even notice.” Steve says, taking Bucky’s wrist to take a bite of the same onion ring.

“Your logic astounds me,” Bucky says, taking the box from Steve and putting it back on the table with the half eaten ring inside before turning back to kiss Steve. “And also incorrect, I can very much notice. Though I do not mind.” With that, Bucky tilts his head towards Steve for another peck, feeling the anxiety from his unreciprocated _I love you_ bubble down when Steve brings his hands around the back of Bucky’s neck, dragging his thumbs across the stubble along Bucky’s jaw.

“Psst,” Steve whispers when their lips part, nudging his nose against Bucky’s. Bucky hums in question, eyes still closed. Steve takes a second to commit the blissed out expression to memory, then says, “I love you, too.”

Bucky’s eyes snap open, his mouth falling open a bit before he breaks into a wide smile, cheeks flushing pink as he looks down at the space between them.

Steve chews on his lower lip to hold back his grin, even though it doesn’t really work, and takes Bucky by the hands to lead them to the couch. He lies down, pulling Bucky down next to him so they’re facing each other.

“What do you want to do now?” Steve asks after some time, voice gentle and low.

“You,” Bucky whispers back with a similar tone, then responds to his own immature break of the mood with an obnoxious snort.

Steve laughs along with him, eyes settling into a playful gaze, a small smirk on his lips. “I think I’d be game for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks, already stretching himself out so he can press closer to Steve.

“Mmm,” Steve hums, smiling into a kiss. When Steve sits up, Bucky whines and chases Steve’s mouth half-heartedly, making Steve laugh airily. “Come on, bedroom.”

Bucky grudgingly obliges, mumbling something about how they have yet to properly christen the couch and will not let Steve stop him next time because it is absolutely _necessary_.

Once they’re in the room, Steve falls back onto the bed and grins up at Bucky, lying with his arms wide open, inviting Bucky to undress him.

“I gotta do all the work now, huh?”

“Seems like it, unless you want me to ride you,” Steve quips smoothly.

“I was talking about the clothes, but that sounds like a nice plan.”

Steve laughs, unzipping his hoodie that is still lacking a shirt underneath. He runs his hands down his own torso, sighing at the touch. “But I’ve got a surprise for you.” Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, dick twitching at the memory of Steve’s purchase the other week. He drops between Steve’s legs and brings a hand up to palm against Steve’s half hard cock.

Steve groans, pressing up into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky’s patience cracks the second he sees Steve tweaking his nipples. Bucky eagerly tugs at the sweatpants hanging on Steve’s hips, dragging them down part way down his thighs and hoping to be met with the glorious sight of Steve in –

“What the fuck? Steve, no. No. No, I’m not doing this.”

Bucky is face to face with Minions smiling creepily back at him. Alas, the truly impenetrable barrier to Steve’s dick: the Minion cockblockers strike again.

Steve groans, frustration and desire overcoming his initial plan to laugh this off. “You’re the one that told me the next date I wore this on I would be guaranteed to get laid. Now hop to it, soldier.”

“Wait, this is your first date since then?”

“I’ve not exactly been looking to date anyone, in case you hadn’t noticed. If I was going to let it be anyone, it was going to be you. In my defence you should’ve seen this coming.”

Bucky drops his head onto Steve’s hip, jerking back up when he remembers what’s on the fabric that’s touching his face. “Yeah, we’re taking these off right now and burning them so I can fuck you in peace.”

“Can we not burn them _after_?” Steve groans, rutting his hips up impatiently and causing Bucky to stumble backwards, away from the living printed demons. “You’re the one that gave them to me.”

“When you said you had a surprise for me, I was expecting the lace and garter, so no. They’re going to burn, _now_.” With that, Bucky takes them off of Steve, momentarily distracted by the alluring curve of Steve’s cock before he remembers the atrocity in his hands.

He reluctantly withdraws from between Steve’s legs and dashes off to the bathroom, placing the forsaken underwear in the bathtub and turning the fan on, setting the pair alight with matches he nabbed from the kitchen. He would spit some parting words, but there’s nothing he can come up with. “See you in hell,” isn’t exactly something he wants to say, because if he has to live with these guys in his afterlife Bucky’s pretty sure he’d much prefer being frozen to keep from descending into hell with those creatures.

He shudders once the deed is done, shaking off the memory and leaving the fan on to deal with the smoke. Technically he’s not supposed to be burning stuff in here, but he thinks he can make an exception. Besides, the place is his and he was being careful and keeping the fire controlled.

Anyway, there is a naked Steve awaiting him, he reminds himself, trying desperately to forget the image that haunts him every time he shuts his eyelids for more than a blink.

He goes back to the room to find Steve with three fingers inside of himself, keening and moaning sharply when, Bucky assumes, he brushes against his prostate.

“Come on, join me,” Steve says breathily, holding out his hand that was fisted in the sheets for Bucky to take. “Lie down and relax, I’ll do the heavy work for us this time.”

Steve’s about ready by the time Bucky’s undressed and stretched out beside him, the only thing stopping them from continuing being Bucky’s insistence that Steve takes off the hoodie so Bucky can appreciate Steve’s “sexy broad shoulders that I’ve been fawning over since the day I met you.”

Steve gladly obliges.

***

“Steve. Steve, your butt is pulsing. Your butt has a pulse.”

Steve sighs, trying to wiggle his way out of Bucky’s arms. “Alright, that’s it. You’ve lost your big spoon privileges, turn around right now, I’m takin’ them back. I only let you do this because I scarred you with those underwear.”

“Noooo, no,” Bucky whines, but Steve shakes his head and somehow gets free, forcing Bucky to roll over so that Steve can press up against his back.

“There, better.”

“No,” Bucky mumbles grumpily. “How do I know you’re not going to lick my ear?”

“Have I ever done that before?” Steve asks, his voice flat having dealt with this enough times to know how to handle Bucky’s moaning. He smiles a bit, then adds, “But would you like that?”

“Steve,” Bucky says sternly. “Told you, this is cuddle time. We can talk sex later, but no, that is not one of my things. Not _licking_ , anyway. I’m getting accustomed to the update Tony did with my arm and I need to rest.”

Steve scoffs, wrapping his arms around Bucky and holding him close. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Can you shut up and let me have this? You tired me out, is that what you want to hear? I just want this for a bit.”

Steve smiles fondly, pressing a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck. “Yeah, of course.”

Bucky makes a noise, pressing back into Steve so that he knows Bucky’s just being difficult, but only normally so. He brings an arm up to take hold of one of Steve’s hands, feeling wholly enveloped in Steve’s embrace.

It’s quiet, comforting, but most of all it feels _safe_. It feels like all the things Bucky’s been on the brink of ever having, but lost because of a clump of damned cells just couldn’t keep their shit together. A million other comparisons run through Bucky’s head until he’s overwhelmed with so much _love_ and relief, making a tear tumble down his cheek. He sniffs to stop his nose from running, and Steve asks, “You okay?” Bucky just hums and shushes Steve, squeezing Steve’s hand.

He feels like he shouldn’t get in over himself too soon, like taking this too fast too soon with Steve could be risky, could challenge what they’re capable of having together, but it’s just too easy to let himself be consumed by it. If he’s honest, Bucky doesn’t feel like they’ve changed _that_ much. For sure there’s more physicality, more open tenderness and affection, but it’s still inherently them, something that existed from day one. And that’s what makes Bucky feel like he’s got the green light, like he’s already run the trial just getting here with Steve.

For saying they goof around a lot, Bucky bets for sure their sappiness is unparalleled. He’s pushed the line sometimes, being way cheesier than he would be with anyone else rather than doing their normal shtick, but even when he restrained himself Steve was sappy right back, assuring Bucky that they were there together. It’s hard not to doubt it, to feel like maybe he’s a step further in love with Steve than Steve is with Bucky, but there are moments that quell those thoughts.

Right now is one of them.

Steve gladly takes every second with an open heart, wanting to give Bucky what he wants and needs, but also wanting nothing but to be right here. His heart is beating slow and steady, though sometimes it’ll run when Bucky’s this close, same circumstances or not. But this moment? This is sacred. This is the kind of thing that Steve wants to capture in words, in art, in everything possible so he can hold onto this feeling forever.

This is Bucky being honest about what he wants, feeling safe with Steve, and Steve feeling safe with Bucky.

Steve presses his face into Bucky’s hair, taking a slow breath and feeling a rush of pleasure course through him. And that’s really it, isn’t it? Just the exhilaration of knowing he has this, that Bucky _wants_ this – wants _him_. It makes him feel like he can do it this time, that he really can find it in himself to give Bucky everything he could ever want, Steve’s own desires be damned. It’s scary, but then again, maybe this is moving forward. Maybe he _has_ changed; maybe he can find it in himself to be as selfless as he couldn’t quite be before. And even though it’s not entirely because of Bucky, he’s still a huge part of it.

Normally they’d fall asleep twenty minutes in, but today… Today is different. Today is them.

“Hnn,” Bucky mumbles some time later, wiggling out of Steve’s arms to grab his phone off the bedside, then settling back and humming at the return to warmth.

“What’s up?” Steve asks. Bucky doesn’t reply, opening his music and scrolling until he finds the track he wants.

“This song reminds me of us,” Bucky explains, playing the track and putting the phone on the bed, volume just loud enough for Steve to hear the piano intertwined with the sweet melody.

 _Knock on my door, boy come home_  
_You stay in my head_  
_Lay in my arms, why won't you?_  
_It's been way too long_  
_What you waiting on?_  
_Cause I've been laying here_  
_Learning what the memories won't do_  
_See I need you and baby I need to_  
_Let down my guard and give you my scars_  
_Open up my heart_  
_We could be stars..._

The song plays on, Steve’s insides swelling with each honest lyric. He pulls Bucky in closer, pressing a kiss to the back of his head and staying there. A calm blankets them, the lazy summer sun breaking through the blinds, the colours of the sunset splayed across the room.

Slowly, it seems, the song comes to an end and the silence left in its wake is so precious and fragile that neither of them dares to break it save for a slight shuffle in the sheets every time one of them moves to kiss the other here or there. Even when they start to get hungry, neither of them says anything or moves until their growling stomachs make it apparent that peace is not sustainable without food. Until then, they stay wrapped up in each other, both overwhelmed with the serenity and the truth laying itself bare that this could be it.

All in all, Bucky couldn’t ask for more than this. Maybe it took a while, maybe it took a lot, but the secure, gentle way Steve maintains contact in their proximity is more than enough to remind Bucky that it was worth it, that running up to that stranger on the bridge in the middle of Central Park in January armed with nothing but a tarnished onion ring was quite possibly one of the best decisions of his life.

Maybe, Bucky speculates, it’s the most unlikely, ridiculous of choices that land you in the place where you belong, the ones that push you out of your normal stride just long enough to alter your course. And maybe that’s it: with one impulsive move your destiny is closer, like a river reaching a cliff, plummeting downwards into a churning cauldron rather than continuing forwards; like the unlikeness of two atoms colliding at just the right moment, the energy of their fusion changing the fate of humankind.

Out of the finite infinities that exist, it could be any one thing that lead him here, but right now Bucky’s not going to try wrapping his mind around that train of thought. Right now, Bucky’s going to focus on the warm breaths on his skin; he’s going to focus on Steve and everything that he is, everything they can and will be. And maybe, though Bucky is hopeful and certain enough to know for sure: this is it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Stars by Alessia Cara
> 
> I tend to do long closing notes, so forgive me. Thank you for taking a chance with this dumb fic full of pining and memes that will soon be irrelevant as the memeconomy pumps out new material. The response to this fic has been overwhelming and heart-warming in a way that I don’t think I ever have or ever will experienced again.
> 
> I began this with one goal in mind: to make a long fic, preferably pining, and to have it stand out at least a little. At that point I had no idea what to do beyond that; there was no onion ring, no stripper!Steve (gasps in horror), and no memes. It took a lot of work to get it where we are today, and I’d like to take a moment to thank everyone responsible that’s been there from the start, and to those who joined me on the journey.
> 
> Starting from the roots, thank you to [Paige](http://fallouchboy.tumblr.com) for your endless contributions. You pulled through when I asked for lists of ideas, the initial bulk of which went into spreading out the build of the story, and the rest of which helped me shape it as it went. You gave this fic more than what you could possibly ever understand. To my angel [Abbey](http://bxdblood.tumblr.com), who has always believed in my writing and been such a steadfast friend. To [AJ](http://aliengirljpeg.tumblr.com), who keeps me sane on a daily basis, and has dealt with my multiple crises over the fic. To [Lauren](http://loveloveb.tumblr.com), who got me into fandoms in the first place, and got me stirred up enough to start writing my own fics (as bad as they were back then). To [Adria](http://melodyoftears.tumblr.com) who stood by me through my Peterick fic and was excited to see me traverse this new terrain. To Tammy, Bonnie, Johnny, Jay, Srosh, Keisha. To [Katie](http://dorkbait.tumblr.com), who has been such a light for me in this past month or so in getting me through this among much more. And last but not least, to [Sarah](http://stvervgers.tumblr.com), my Stevie. You are the reason I wrote this; it was always for you. Ily like rlb. To all of my dearest friends listed here: I love you all so much.
> 
> If you read/skipped past all that to continue reading up to here, bless you. To my readers, without whom I would’ve been lost. You gave me hope I didn’t know was possible to hold, and your love and support will never be forgotten. To the ones that got hooked the first day I posted and kept on waiting for each update, the ones that left because they got bored, and to those of you that have lost an entire night of sleep to read this: take this as my most sincere thank you. Seeing that over 600 people are subscribed to this–over 600 people get an email when I update this fic–is just insane. It’s unimaginable. That number is too big to even fathom. And there’s more that aren’t accounted for that don’t have accounts. That is more than I could have ever hoped for.
> 
> Again, thank you for taking a chance, for trusting me not to let you down even though I’m pretty sure I did many times. Words escape me. I’m sitting here at 1am trying to figure out how to explain how I feel right now, but all I have is an absurd amount of gratitude and disbelief. I cannot believe I managed to get this far.
> 
> Don’t think I’ve forgotten: thank you, [India](http://legpace.tumblr.com). Despite that I do the writing, I cite you as my co-author because you dedicated a huge amount of time to this fic and helped me build every moment until I had grasp enough that I was able to write the last handful of chapters without bugging you. None of this would’ve been possible without you.
> 
> Albums that got me through this: No Moon At All by Wildcat! Wildcat!, In A Perfect World by Kodaline, the Star Wars: The Force Awakens soundtrack, An Awesome Wave by Alt-J, Blue Neighbourhood by Troye Sivan, Know-It-All by Alessia Cara, Tell Me It’s Real by Seafret, 5AM by Amber Run, Drinking From a Salt Pond by Run River North, Elements by Kina Grannis, Katie’s many spotify playlists, and I Will Be Nothing Without Your Love by The Ready Set.
> 
> Side note: I am planning on writing for the Stucky Big Bang that is approaching, so keep your eyes peeled and alert any artists you know so they can sign up and pair with us writers!
> 
> Side note #2: keep a close eye on the series: there will be little additions including an epilogue (hopefully), a copy of the rough fic plan (unedited), a bonus chapter full of fluff, and more!
> 
> With a heavy but happy heart I bid you all farewell, and I hope you know that each and every one of you always has a place with me. I am forever open, and if you wish to talk with me either about the fic or because you’re having a rough day, or just because the cute girl you like talked to you, please feel free to talk to me on [tumblr](http://bkcybvrnes.tumblr.com).
> 
> I will return once Civil War has wrecked my ass.


End file.
